A Chosen Path
by banatic66
Summary: Legends never compared to the real story of Isolde. There was no love potion, no arranged marriage, no queenship, and there was nothing poetic about it. Her story begins with Sarmatia and ends with the knights.
1. Introduction

"But in her web she still delights  
To weave the mirror's magic sights,  
For often through the silent nights  
A funeral, with plumes and lights  
And music, went to Camelot;  
Or when the Moon was overhead,  
Came two young lovers lately wed.  
"I am half sick of shadows," said  
The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,  
He rode between the barley sheaves,  
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,  
And flamed upon the brazen greaves  
Of bold Sir Lancelot.  
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd  
To a lady in his shield,  
That sparkled on the yellow field,  
Beside remote Shalott. "

-Tennyson

"King Arthur, yet unwarred upon by fate,  
Held high in hall at Camelot, like one  
Whose lordly life was as the mounting sun  
That climbs and pauses on the point of noon,  
Sovereign: how royal rang the tourney's tune  
Through Tristram's thee days' triumph, spear to spear,  
When Iseult shone enthroned by Guenevere,  
Rose against rose, the highest adored on earth,  
Imperial: yet with subtle notes of mirth  
Would she bemock her praises, and bemoan  
Her glory by that splendour overthrown  
Which lightened from her sister's eyes elate;"

-Algernon Charles Swinburne


	2. Home

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything as nice as an entire cast, crew, and film. Or any of the old legends.

The sixth sense that came with living on the steppes told me to look up and see the rider far off into the distance. The horse was going fast towards my home. A sense of foreboding came over me as I looked from the rider to the girl beside me. Galina's soft brown eyes were alert as she looked at the rider. She turned to me and I saw that she too felt unnerved by the anxious paced rider. We were Sarmatian's and to see a person on horseback riding over plains was nothing unusual, but there something wrong…

"We should hurry." I said quietly and nudged my horse to go a little faster. The gray mare was nothing so low as a packhorse, but she was not a war horse like my ebony colored Kolaksay, named after the first horse lord of our ancestors. Galina nodded and hastened. We had been gone for a day to find wood. Our people were nomads of the steppes where there were not many trees. The large amount of wood carried in the sacks on the sides of our horses would last our tribe for a fortnight or so. Some strange instinct carried in my beating heart urged me to turn my horse and go as far away as possible. I tried push the feeling down and closed my eyes. I felt the horse walking beneath me. She was tired from hauling a load of wood and a girl of thirteen summers around. I tried to match the beating of my heart to her hooves hitting the soft grass. I knew what she wanted. For her next step to be the last with the burden she carried. To be unbridled and unhindered. To drink and eat and rest. I heard voices and I opened my eyes. The relaxed posture of my body and face turned to tension as I looked at the faces of my tribe. Our small temporary huts were empty of most of their inhabitants who had gathered around the rider. I recognized her as a distant cousin and I slid off my horse fluidly. I resisted the urge to leave my horse standing with the heavy load unlike Galina and quickly unsaddled our horses. My considerate behavior ended there however and I left the wood on the ground and let the horses go where they please. I walked over to where the crowd was talking furiously and found my father. His face was set grimly as he looked at my mother who was crouched, holding my nine year old brother as if he was still an infant.

"Isolde…" My father said relieved.

"Romans." I said understanding. My father gripped my shoulder tightly and I looked around. When the Romans last came to our tribe, eight summers ago, they had taken the only four young men of our tribe. The males were all either married and in their thirties, or below the age of twelve. For the past twenty years mostly girls had been born and few boys. I looked at my brother. He was just a young boy and certainly not ready to be taken by the Romans as a soldier. We had no young men to spare. There were so few boys at all, and if the Romans took them, I didn't doubt that they would be killed. Our tribe was in danger of dying out I realized.

"What are we going to do?" I heard Branwain ask her mother. I looked at my fiery, dark haired cousin and immediately knew she would cause trouble if the Romans tried to take her young brother.

"They couldn't possibly want to steal a group of _children_ from their mothers could they?" Galina said appalled. She was three years my senior and still she was to naïve and tender to understand the infamous greed of Romans. I did wonder though. The Romans spared us, as they put it, for our superior horseman skills. What did they really expect to gain from taking boys who could be better trained in just a few more years?

"When?" I asked father.

"Tomorrow. They came to your mother's kin a few days ago and took a few of the boys. Boys! Not even fourteen winters old!" I could see the rage in my father's large coal blue eyes, so like my own. I thought for a moment and counted the boys over the age of five. There were only five. It could be reasonable enough I decided.

"Hide them." I said at last. Several heads turned my way.

"Hide them?" My uncle asked, not sure if he had heard me.

"Send them away for a few days. Say that a plague came and took most of the young ones. Say they died in a raid. They can't take dead boys." I said calmly. I looked around at my tribe. Most of them were my father's kin. I didn't want to see anymore of my family taken by the Romans to serve in some bleak outpost for an empire built on the backs of slaves and conquered peoples. My father and uncle nodded at me, acknowledging the wisdom of my words.

"I thank the gods you were not born a boy to be stolen from us." My father said with respect. I personally didn't think the idea was that revolutionary, it was dangerous. Who knew what the Romans would do in their wrath? Especially if they found out the truth. Out in the middle of Sarmatia a Roman could get away with anything, especially if it had to do with barbarian horse people. But I wasn't about to say that. It was our best chance at preserving our tribe, and I would risk my own life if only to have one up on the Romans.

It was settled. I kissed my brother's cheek and told him to be good as my uncle put him and my cousin on a horse together. He and another of my kinsmen would take all the boys over the age of five and a few of the girls for good measure and hide out for a few days. When it was safe to return, my aunt would go fetch them back.

"Be good." I said fondly to my brother. I looked at my cousin, Arghil, gripped his arm. He would be a young man soon and I could see the small flicker of regret in his eyes that he would not be going on an adventure to the Roman empire. "You'll have plenty of chances to prove yourself." I said firmly. "You'll stay here, become a man, wed and live the way we did before the Romans."

He nodded and wiped away all traces of sadness. I stepped back and allowed Branwain to access the boys. The tribe had agreed to tell the Romans that a disease had taken the young ones a few years back. It was completely reasonable, but I knew every man and woman would have a blade ready to defend themselves lest something should go wrong.

Later that night I sat outside sharpening arrows. I felt two figures approaching me. Galina and Branwain sat on either side of me. We were all so different, but they had been my closest companions since we were small children. Of course, living in a small tribe, one couldn't be picky. Galina, the eldest, was doe-eyed and willowy. Her light brown, almost gold hair was unusual for our more southern tribe and caught many eyes. Branwain was short with hazel eyes and brown hair several shades darker than my own. I tried to picture us all in a few years, married with children. It seemed hazy and far off and I realized what I already had felt for a long time. I did not want the life that waited for me here. I didn't scorn it by any means, but spending my life with my tribe, eventually marrying and raising children who would be eventually taken away to die for Rome, did not appeal to me. I needed more of a purpose. I pictured myself fighting and wandering all my days and let a small smile cross my face. My mother often called me bloodthirsty, but my father called it the battle lust of a true warrior. It had made our people great once, my father told me.

"I would give anything for some of father's wine." Branwain said wistfully. I chuckled.

"Did he ever find out it was us who stole the last of it? Of course Isolde and I only got a drop or two before you guzzled it down…" Galina said with a light air of annoyance. Branwain smiled in fond remembrance.

"No… Mother suspected though…" She said. We sat in silence for a while longer. Branwain eventually went back to her home, and then Galina. I stayed outside most of the night unable to shake off the feeling of foreboding and even stranger, excitement.

Woooow I missed writing! Review please!


	3. Welcome to Hell

I'm incorporating some of the legends into this… If you don't recognize anything, you can check out "The Lady of Shallot" and any of the Tristan and Iseult poems…

By the way Galina is a variation of Elaine.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the vast blue sky. Endless, inescapable, beautiful. I heard people scurrying around and I stood up. I had fallen asleep right outside the encampment like countless other nights. It took me a moment to realize what was going on until it hit me like a splash of cold water. The Romans had been spotted. I walked briskly back to the huts and looked around. Everyone was nervous. It showed in every face like an arrow in the chest. In my own hut, my mother was sharpening her sword with a nostalgic expression. Father told me she had rarely used it after I was born, choosing instead to devote her life towards her new family. Father was sitting on his and mother's makeshift bed, staring at the wall. He had the same sinister feeling I had, and I was frightened for the first time in a long while. My father was a strong, quiet man prone to keeping his feelings to himself and his face blank, but now I could almost feel his anxiousness, like a hare ready to flee. I had inherited many of his traits including his observation and patience. I thought fondly back to the times when we had gone hunting together and sat without moving for hours, just waiting for our prey to show itself. I resolved to go hunting with him with this was all settled.

A shout from outside, and the entire tribe was outside. We stood proudly as the Romans rode into our gathering of huts. I had only been a small child when the Romans had last come, and I had forgotten what they looked like. Hard, chiseled faces with cold, leering eyes. I was perfectly aware of my sword lying a few feet away, ready for bloodshed, but I never took my eyes off the Romans. There were only six of them, but more would come if we killed these.

"Where are the cavalry you owe to the empire?" The commander said after scanning the crowd of thirty or so Sarmatians.

"We have none to give this year." My father said stepping forward. "A plague took many of our young ones four winters ago."

"You mean to tell me that there is not one boy of age to be taken?" The leader said turning his eyes on my father. His eyes narrowed as he disbelievingly surveyed the crowd once more. "Your barbarian ancestors were spared so that you could supply the empire with horsemen. Why are there only girls?" He said dangerously as he gestured to Galina, Branwain and me.

"Do you think we pick the sexes of our children?" My mother snapped. Her temper, like my own, was formidable and tended to be unmindful of the circumstances. His expression soured, but he ignored my mother

"Search the… huts." He said distastefully to one of the soldiers with him. The man dismounted his horse and began to poke his head into our huts. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Branwain grow red. I would soundly beat her if she did anything stupid like endanger our entire tribe.

"Nothing!" The man said once he was done with his fruitless search. The leader looked at us suspiciously.

"If your children are dead, where are their graves?" He asked.

"We burn our dead." My father said stiffly. It was a lie. We buried them in mounds with gold and weapons. I could see the suspicion in the man's eyes. He was not convinced.

"If that is so, then we'll take those three." He said nodding towards us. There was an uproar. Even his own men looked perturbed. He was bluffing I saw immediately. He still did not believe us and thought this would make us bring forth the young men. "Why not? You pagans treat your women like men? So will we. Prepare them."

"You cannot take-" My aunt began but was cut off.

"Prepare them." The man said and we knew he was serious. Just like that my life was handed over to the Romans. My own plan had backfired and now my two friends and I were Sarmatian cavalry for the Romans. I don't remember much of the next few minutes. Later I would only remember my aunt's weeping, my mother's wide eyed disbelieving stare, my father's cold hands in my own and Galina's sobs. I remember putting a thicker tunic on and my mother handing me her sword. Someone pressed a small satchel in my hand but I didn't bother to see who. Mounting Kolaksay. My mother gripped my hand fiercely as she walked with my horse to the waiting Romans. I studied her face for what I knew would probably be the last time.

"Remember who you are. You are my daughter Isolde. _Isolde_. Not Rome's soldier." She said fiercely. I reached out and touched her delicate features that she had passed to me. I memorized every detail of her deep brown eyes. I looked at my father. Dark black blue eyes. My own. It was only when the Roman said it was time to leave did everything slow down. Riding away from my family was dragged out cruelly. Every step my horse took seemed slow and deliberate. When we were only fifty yards away, I took one last look, memorized it, and didn't look back again. Galina's sobs continued for hours and Branwain was paler than snow. I could offer no comfort. I could not hold them and tell them it would be okay because I didn't know if it would be. I could not tell them that it would get better because I didn't know if would. And so I did nothing. I said nothing as we rode to another tribe and picked up two more boys. Apparently the boys from my mother's tribe were already on their way to the empire. I remember the satchel that someone had pressed into my hand. Inside were a few coins and a gold ring with coral inlay. I was surprised that anyone had thought to give me gold. Why waste gold that on a girl that will never return? I hid it away and drew my mother's sword. It was not long at all but made for slashing and chopping. It was well made. Both sides were razor sharp, but one side was straight while the other was curved. The hilt was a little large for my hand, but I would grow into it. I sheathed the sword and stared straight ahead.

For the fortnight it took to get to Gaul, I said nothing. Galina and Branwain talked, but rarely. We passed through many towns and cities and for the first time in days I forgot what my life was about to become. I had lived on the steppes my whole life, and I had never seen building after building all crammed together. I saw huge marble buildings that I understood had once been temples to Roman gods. No longer though, not since the spread of Christianity. I made note of the Roman's hypocrisy. One year, they were killing Christians; the next, they were killing pagans. Their new religion taught kindness, love, and moderation, yet they were (for the most part) the cruelest, greediest people I had every seen. Such an empire could not last.

We arrived at a small town in Gaul three weeks after we had left home. We were sent to barracks with the other "barbarians". There were a few Sarmatians, most of them about to be sent to Britain though.

"Damned pigs… They call us barbarians, but they steal our women when the men run out!" An angry looking young man said once he heard what had happened. He looked to be about twenty, and I could read the hatred in his eyes. "Don't worry. Lionel and I will take care of you."

Another Sarmatian who looked to be a year or two younger than the first stepped up. He saw the flicker of anger in Branwain's face at the suggestion that we needed a caretaker and smiled.

"What Balin here means, is that we will guard your backs against the Romans, if you watch ours." He said charmingly. I grinned slightly as I saw Branwain's face relax. He had saved his friend from a good tongue lashing from Branwain, and at the same time tried to make it seem as if they needed us to help them. "How old are you sweet flowers?" He asked us. Galina blushed a charming shade of pink and put a hand over her gracefully arched nose to hide her smile.

"Fourteen." Branwain said.

"Thirteen." I replied.

"And I am sixteen." Galina said after her blush had faded.

"I am Lionel and I am eighteen summers old. I am at your service fair ladies…" And with that he gave a sweeping bow. When he straightened up his curling black hair was in his eyes and he swished it back aristocratically. I liked him already.

"Well I'm Balin and I too am at your service. Though I'm not going to bow like this fairy…" Balin mumbled. His own light brown hair was wavy and fell to his shoulders. He was of average height, with a sturdy build. Lionel gave him a good natured look at his words.

"Don't be jealous of my bow just because you move like a tree stump. It's not my fault your mother and that bull-" He began but was cut off as Balin leapt upon him. Then began an amusing brawl. Everyone crowded around and I saw coins passing between hands as the wagers began.

" 'Like to bet against Balin?" A stringy haired boy asked me. I measured to two of them up. Balin was stronger, but Lionel was almost like oil as he constantly slid out from underneath Balin. I shook the boy's hand and watched.

"Like I said Balin, one night your mother was bored with her husband and so she went outside and-" That earned him a solid punch to the stomach.

"And how would you know about my mother?" Balin asked, his voiced laced with triumph as he pinned Lionel. In one fluid movement Lionel had thumped Balin's windpipe and had him by the neck.

"Well its what she told me when she woke up in the morning after we-" Balin let out a roar and tried to flip Lionel over but Lionel was ready. He snaked a foot under Balin's legs and knocked him flat. There were several cheers and I turned the boy next to me and held out my hand. He grudgingly dropped a few coins in my hand and walked away. Lionel saw the coins in my hands and smiled proudly. He slung an arm around my shoulder and grandly presented the large room we were in.

"Welcome to your new home." He said.

"Lovely." I said dryly. He smiled.

"Always good to meet someone with open eyes." He said patting me on the back. "You've got fifteen years. You live in this room with the rest of us. You eat, drink, and train with us. Cause trouble, and you'll be whipped like a dog. You're expected to ride perfectly and to know the basic cavalry skills, but it's always better to know more. Show skill and they'll ship you off to a bigger post like Britain. It's more dangerous, but there's a good deal more freedom. If you're weak or unskilled, you'll spend the rest of your days here and believe me, it's hell. Balin and I have been here for five winters and we've hated every day of it. We're due to go to Britain in the winter though."

I took all of it in and looked around. Hell indeed. I knew eventually be sent to another outpost if what Lionel said was true. I could handle a sword better than anyone I knew. Branwain and Galina were not bad either.

"What's training like?"

"Harsh. Six days a week they'll drill you like a dog. We spend the first half of the day doing basic things with the auxiliary. Roman sword training, spears and such. Its stupid really, we're not soldiers. We're Sarmatian Cavalry. Anyways after noon you spend the rest of the day with Praefect and a Sarmatian. The Praefect's job is to watch over it all…make sure were not preparing for a rebellion. The Sarmatian, Bela, will train you in every manner of warfare. Don't cross him, he's somewhat allied himself with the Romans. His duty was over years ago, but they pay him good to train us." Lionel said. Balin had walked up and was listening.

"You train with what he tells you to." Balin said warningly. "He tells you to spar with a knife; you want to shoot your bow, too bad. When you get sent to a new post you'll pick your own weapons."

I nodded. I would use whatever weapon he told me to. A weapon was a weapon and blood was blood. I could set aside my preference for a while.

"This is…" Galina said walking up to me. She couldn't find the words though. Branwain walked up.

"Well cousin," I said. "You've always wanted adventure."

She smiled roguishly. "And you've always wanted a purpose."

"I see no purpose here." I said grimly. She smiled bitterly.

"Well, how about blood?" Galina asked softly.

"That will have to do." I said and prepared to go to bed.

Balin woke me up in the morning.

"Come and greet the sun, Hecate." Lionel said. I looked at him curiously.

"Hecate was the Greek goddess of death." He said. I raised an eyebrow. I had not known he was learned.

"And that relates to me how?" I asked. He scrutinized my face.

"I've been told you enjoy killing." He said and I saw it was a question. Galina would be the one to say such a thing. Branwain was more understanding.

"I enjoy battle. Death is… Only part of it." I said as I put on my thick tunic over my thin shirt. I grimaced. My chest was growing and I would soon need a new tunic. "Damn it all to hell." I said darkly. Balin looked over from where he was tightening his belt.

"You'll need to hide you figure around the men at this post." He said somberly. "Your face can't be helped, but you could try and make yourself look shapeless."

"Or at least till you're tall enough to defend yourself." Lionel said with a huge smile.

"I'll grow." I said firmly. Neither of my parents were short so I hope I might grow a little taller.

"Aye, but in the mean time you're growing in other places!" He said and slapped my shoulder. I narrowed my eyes at him and woke up Galina who had fallen back asleep.

We were allotted a small but filling breakfast and then hustled out to a field. We were handed old rusty swords and made to spar for a long while. All the Sarmatian's were better than the Romans I noticed proudly. A Sarmatian was trained as an individual warrior, while a Roman would be trained as just another shield and spear. We had mock battles and went over battle tactics. That I took a great liking to. I had never before studied organized warfare. I saw the logic behind many of the Roman tactics, but I still resented just being treated as a soldier and not a warrior in my own right. There were gawking faces and shouts of disbelief everywhere we went, but by the time we went to our Sarmatian captain, it was fairly well accepted that there were now three females being trained along side the men. Bela was heavily Romanized. I saw the Sarmatian pride about him, but he would please the Romans if it meant keeping his face clean shaven and his hair trimmed close to his head. I could not read his face when he stood in front of Galina, Branwain and I. Was he proud of the three girls who had lived up to the legend of the mixing of Amazons and Scythians? Or did he think we were just three new problems who needed to be dealt with? I did not know.

"What weapons are you familiar with?" He asked Branwain briskly.

"Sword, bow, dagger." She answered nervously. He turned to Galina, but she would not look him in the eye.

"Bow, dagger." She said quietly. Her willowy frame made swordplay difficult. He grimaced and turned to me. I stared back into his flinty eyes with out flinching. I was not going to allow myself to be intimidated by this man. The same Sarmatian blood ran through our veins.

"Swords, dagger, hand to hand, spear, bow, axe." My father was a well respected warrior among our people and he had taught his daughter well. Bela nodded curtly and backed away.

"You will not be given any special treatment. Do not come to me with female problems; you can go into town for that. I expect you to train just as hard as the men. You will not make a fool out of me. Do what I ask of you, and in a few years you will be sent to Britain like the rest of the men." And with that he began ordering everyone around. An hour into training and I almost envied the Romans. They had it easy compared to us. Bela was unforgiving and harsh. We sparred for hours upon hours until it was dark. When it was time for us to go get our cold supper, he nodded a sharp approval to us.

"Gods be damned I hurt…" Branwain said unabashedly as she sat next to me. I only nodded and tore at my crude bread with my teeth. I was covered in bruised from wooden swords.

"I bet you do my flower. Rest assured tomorrow will be archery or wrestling. Think of it! More muscles to pull! More bruises to be gained!" Lionel said gaily sitting next to Branwain. She scowled at him. Already I could see the endless hours of amusement to be had watching Branwain and Lionel banter. Balin sat in between Galina and I and looked over at the other two.

"What is there to do around here?" Galina asked. Balin looked at her surprised.

"This isn't a normal post. This is hell. You train and you sleep. You'll see in a few days." He said knowingly. "You'll be so worn out; fun won't even cross your mind."

Balin proved to be right. The next few days were sufficient to prove it. Everyday we trained with the Romans and then Bela. Each day we practiced with a different weapon. I enjoyed my studies of warfare with a fervor that surprised my instructors including Bela. I learned to treat wounds effectively, though Galina excelled in it. When our day was finished, we retired to our barracks and ate and slept. On the one day we had to ourselves, we spent it together. Home was a popular topic though I found my thoughts turning more and more towards the future. Lionel and Balin became our fast companions. Lionel and Branwain argued constantly and I must say I enjoyed it. As the weather turned cold I could see Lionel and Balin's growing excitement. They would be shipped to Britain where they would probably become knights. I was happy that at least some of us were getting out of this hellhole, but I knew things would be worse with out them. The day came for them to leave and I found myself close to tears.

"I guess this is it then." Lionel said and for once he had nothing witty to say. Galina embraced both of them and stepped back quickly. Branwain, to my surprise, burst into tears and hugged Lionel. I was suddenly ashamed that I had not even thought about my two oldest friends' sorrow. Balin drew me into a fierce hug and I returned it. He kissed me full on the mouth in a chaste way and passed me to Lionel. Lionel cupped my chin and smiled.

"Lighten up Hecate. Give me a smile with that pretty face." I raised an eyebrow and did as I was told. His smile grew even broader and he kissed the top of my head. They got on their horses and were gone. It was the last time I would ever see Balin.

Aight here's the deal. I'm gonna be more merciful to the knights, but expect some character deaths. And the main story is about Isolde and the knights, I'm just taking my time getting to it! REVIEWWWW!


	4. Skills and Seeds

Disclaimer… I don't own king arthur…

Chiefhow- I hate those vibes! Haha

Nora17- Hell yeah there's gonna be Tristan!

Sugar-Skyline- Sorry! I didn't even notice! It won't be like that for long!

I wish I could say the years passed quickly, but I can't. Four painfully boring years passed in Gaul. At seventeen I was skilled with a sword, a bow, spear, dagger, axe, and wrestling. Galina had proven to be quite formidable with her small axe and knife as had Branwain with her crowbill. We had been in one battle in four years, and I had taken full advantage of it. In the short skirmish I had engaged and killed twelve men. After that the Romans stayed away from us and Bela treated me with a new respect. There was one thing we were short on though. Real experience. There was no camping, no scouting, no… no reality. It was truly a hell for us. After Balin and Lionel left and I realized there it was just us, I took back part of myself. The world I lived in did not have room a girl who wore her heart on her sleeve. The only good thing that came from our stay in Gaul, aside from our skills, was the bond that developed between Galina, Branwain and I. Galina, at twenty was thin and willowy with a Grecian face. Her almost gold hair was long and wavy and her warm brown eyes were far-seeing. There was something otherworldly and soothing about her. I loved her without truly ever understanding why she was the way she was, and I knew she felt the same about me. Branwain however was the only one who could bring me out of my withdrawn state. Her loud and brassy ways could always bring a smile to my face. For four years we could find few things worth living for. Each other and the future. For me the future held more battles, more honor. To Galina it held romance and happiness and to Branwain, it was home and glory.

I could not stand another pointless day in Gaul. And pointless is what it was. There was nothing more we could learn there. I was going to confront Bela about being shipped to Britain. Anyone else would have already been sent and I knew it.

"I can't do this anymore." Galina said lifelessly. Branwain nodded and downed her cup of wine.

"I have to get out of here lest I go into a blind rage and wake up to find dead Romans everywhere." I said dramatically. Galina smiled.

"Could you take me out while you're at it?" Branwain asked half seriously. I snorted. I looked up as a couple of fresh recruits were ushered into the mess hall. That hardened my resolution and I stood up.

"I'm going to speak to Bela." And with that I walked to the Sarmatian captain's quarters. I didn't bother knocking, and he gave me a surprised look as I barged into his room.

"We should have been sent to Britain last summer and you damn well know it." I said abruptly. He gave me a sour look and straightened up from where he was glancing over some papers.

"You think you are ready for Britain?" He said as if he wasn't really paying attention but I knew he was measuring every word I said.

"What more can we gain here? We've got to get out of here and you know it. I don't know how you can stand it." I said plainly. I was usually respectful and kept my opinions to myself, but I had made up my mind.

"Maybe you're ready, but what about the other two?" He asked while looking me in the eye. I looked past those flinty gray chips and saw that he was worried about us. I was angry that he would try and force me to ask him to put my friends in danger.

"We cannot stay here forever." I said. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Do you know how many boys I've sent to their deaths?" He asked me wearily. I said nothing. He had a duty, no matter how painful it was. "I had a daughter once. She was a fighter like you three. I took her to Britain with me and I watched her die with an arrow through her heart. It's a horrible thing, to see someone you love die. One minute we were laughing and talking and the next she was on the ground with a great hole in her chest. We should have been more alert, but love makes you weak. Remember that Isolde." I could say nothing. I was too surprised that this stony man was letting me into this part of his history. "It's a dangerous land girl. The Roman emperor himself had a wall built to keep away the woads. They call it part of Rome, but it hasn't even been truly conquered. Even if you can deal with those who live there, the entire island is surrounded by enemies."

"I'll send you there, in the morning if you like, but don't let those two do anything stupid." He said and once again he was my dry humored commander. It was a dismissal and I recognized. I bowed my head slightly and left.

"We're going to Britain in the morning." I said as I walked past my companions.

"Wh-what?" Branwain sputtered. I knew she had heard me so I continued to the barracks and began to prepare.

Bela was good to his word and the next morning we were mounting our horses and ready to head for the coast. Bela saluted us and walked up to my horse. He looked into my face and nodded. I looked at the cloth wrapped thing he handed me and tilted my head thoughtfully. It was the second time in my life that I had been handed a sword on the brink something new. I drew it out of its plain leather sheath and admired it. It resembled a Greek machaira. I traced my finger down the forward curving blade. It was a deadly blade and I had knew it would shear through the thickest of armor.. I didn't ask who it had belonged to, I didn't need to. I nodded and gave him a small smile. He patted my leg and walked back inside the walls. The Romans who would be taking us to Britain motioned for us to catch up and we obliged.

That night we camped in a forest near the coast. The next day we would board a ship and sail to Britain. I laid on the forest floor and looked up through the tree tops to the starry night.

"What will it be like?" Branwain asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" I said with my mind on other things.

"You know everything…" She said and I could tell she was about to fall asleep. Bela had seen to it that I had an education, but I didn't know everything. My thoughts were disrupted as I heard Galina's hacking cough. She had started coughing more and more often over the past few weeks and I was beginning to feel alarmed.

"Has your cough still not passed?" I asked her. She took a rugged breath and sighed.

"It's gone; I just had something in my throat." She said calmly and I swallowed her lie. We said nothing else until morning.

Once we were off the godforsaken ship, we set off immediately to our new home. Luguvalium. It was a large settlement not far from Hadrian 's wall. Our journey lasted a fortnight, but we barely noticed. I had never seen so much damn green in all my life. It was vibrant and the very land seemed to pulse with life. Britain, like my own homeland, would never fully be Roman. Stone circles and ancient shrines dotted the land. We rode past fields of wheat being tended to by men and women with coarse tunics and shaggy hair. We pass fortresses and Caers and villages. There were some thriving cities, but mostly there were just forests and small towns. There were Roman villas too. I passed their high walls and wondered why a Roman would want to live in this pagan land. When we reached Luguvalium we were all glowing with happiness. We had begun a new part of our life. Luguvalium was a large fortress that was no longer of much importance after the building of the Roman wall. It was used to station men and their families and it was a place of trade. We were sent to our new barracks and settled in. I didn't mind the stares that we received. They would get used to having three Sarmatian women fighting along side them soon enough.

"Welcome to Luguvalium." A man with a Roman accent said stepping in front of us. He was a Roman by his attire. He looked to be in his early forties and was very fit. He had a kind yet stern face.

"I am your new commander, Marcus Junius. So. You are the three Amazon women we have heard of?" He said with a smile. I was completely taken aback. I had expected an arrogant Roman, not a kind one.

"We're Sarmatian." Galina said not knowing what else to say.

"What our orders sir?" I said ignoring Galina. I wanted to know what we would be doing.

"If you were Roman, you would be trained for service at the wall or you would stay here and settle local disputes. Rarely do we get the chance to train Sarmatians though! In your case you will be assigned to cavalry. You will be sent to put down local rebellions and to defend coastal cities from Irish raiders." He said the last part with a bit of annoyance, as if just thinking of the Irish put him in a foul mood. "Occasionally you may be sent to reinforce the Sarmatian knights at the wall. Their leader, Artorius Castus, rarely calls on us though. We had a few Sarmatians some years ago, but he claimed them for his own force."

Artorius Castus. It was a name I had heard several times in Gaul. Bela spoke of him with great respect. He was Roman, Britain, and Sarmatian all at once. The knights he commanded were legendry. We occasionally heard of their exploits in Gaul, but some of the stories were so ridiculous I wondered if there was any truth to them. There was something extraordinary about Britain, but I was certain there were no giant fire-breathing lizards… Junius must have seen the look in our faces, for he quickly said:

"Don't get your hopes up girls. He rarely does, and even then he only takes the best there is." He said sagely. If I hadn't already been devoted to warfare, those words would have inspired me. Our conversation was interrupted as a imperious young man with golden hair stepped into our circle.

"Marcus Junius, I-" He stopped and stared at us as if he expected us to bow our way out of the room. He looked at us with a haughty expression and I knew he would cause trouble for us. I looked him straight in the eye until he looked away. Weak people could not hold a stare. "Who are these barbarians?"

I must say, I was very proud of Branwain for not strangling him with the gold threaded tunica he wore. I myself was tempted to smash his pretty face. If I had not already hated him, I would have thought he was handsome. His noble, almost pretty features showed generations of fine breeding. His hair looked like it was made of gold and his long-lashed eyes were the same color as the sky. Oh I hated him.

"Scato, be respectful. This is Aulus Scato. His father owns most of the surrounding land and Scato here is being trained to be a governor. I made a mental note to leave Britain the moment Scato came within reach of power. "These are our new Sarmatian knights." I nearly jumped at being referred to as a knight.

"Galina." She said with a passive look.

"Branwain." My cousin said with a slight edge.

"Isolde." I finished indifferently. Aulus Scato looked at each of us and I saw his lips peel back with distaste. He turned back to Junius and they began to discuss Roman cavalry.

The next few days were strange. For the past four years each day of our lives had been carefully outlined and supervised. A soldier could go to the training yard when ever he felt like it and train with any weapon he wished. We were no longer in training; we would only have to fight when there was a battle or skirmish. The first call to arms was two months after our arrival. A group of marauders had been robbing near by villages and killing those who resisted. The cavalry, myself included, was to divide into two groups along with the auxiliary and ambush the offending thieves. We waited all night for the raiders in the shadow of a steep hole. Just before the sun began to light the hazy sky, we heard what sounded like a battle cry. In an instant we were armed and charging at the village. Most of the thirty or so marauders were mounted on mangy horses and poorly armored. They carried axes, spears and swords and were all together unimpressive. I drew the machaira Bela had given me and smiled happily. Now would be a good chance to see how well I could handle it. I had sharpened it and practiced with it religiously for the past few weeks and was eager to let it spill blood.

I rode up to the conflict and notched an arrow on my Sarmatian bow. I let it go with a twang and heard the satisfying thud as it lodged into the man's eye. Two more arrows and I dismounted my horse. I dodged the first, sloppy hack from a hairy man and I quickly swung the blade to his helmeted head. It slid through the metal and practically cleaved his head in two. I smiled fondly at the blade and twisted my sword and body in an arc to leave a deep gash in the man who had been sneaking up behind me. The first light of dawn was creeping over us as I killed my eighth man. I withdrew my mother's sword from his belly and looked around. I had kept an eye out for Branwain and Galina during the fighting and I knew them to be quite capable. None of the cavalry was hurt, but we had lost about half of the fifteen foot soldiers. We loaded our dead back into a cart and went back to the fort.

Junius and Scato were waiting for us when returned. Junius looked pleasantly surprised to see us unharmed and Scato looked even more surprised to see the blood we were splashed with. I gave him a chilling smile and walked past him. After we had cleaned our weapons and bodies we sat down in our shared room and looked at each other. Galina studied my contented face and raised an eyebrow.

"If you were anyone else I would call you a savage." She said emphatically. "I want a dress."

I looked at her. She was wispy looking, but pretty none the less. None of the three of us had worn a dress in years. I closed my eyes and shrugged. I pictured dresses in my mind, but I couldn't imagine wearing one in front of Scato or any of the men. Not here. When I did get a dress however, it would be a red one. I flinched as Galina let out a painful sounding cough. I wondered if she knew she was dying.

Several months later we were in the market browsing the wares. We had been quite pleased to discover that we actually received salaries. Small salaries, but salaries nonetheless. I was happy to have any money, no matter how diminutive the amount, to myself. Galina planned on buying the fabric for her dress; while Branwain bought was saving hers for god knows what. I however, was looking for a shield. I had seen shields of every shape and size, but I hadn't found what I was looking for yet.

"You shouldn't be buying a shield. You should be buying a dress." Galina said and I was alarmed at how much she sounded like my mother.

"I for one agree with Galina." Branwain added. "It's the only money you have, and you're spending it on another weapon."

It was unfair really. I had never bought a weapon before. They had all been given to me.

"You should buy something beautiful." Galina said fingering some gold brooches. I smiled to myself.

"This _will_ be beautiful." I said softly.

"I meant something feminine. I'm no different than you and I still want to wear a dress." She said in her tranquil yet exasperated voice.

"As you should. You'll look nice in that color." I said seeing the olive colored material she kept glancing at.

"It's too expensive-What do you mean I would look good in a dress? Have you looked in a mirror since we left home?" I was taken aback. I actually hadn't looked in a mirror. I thought of my face. Stubborn chin, small full mouth, pointy noise, black blue eyes, brown hair, and none too pale skin. What could have changed? Branwain rolled her eyes and dragged me over to a set of old bronze mirrors. I looked at the face staring back at me. I was almost eighteen and my face had become more womanly, as had my figure.

"You know tunics don't make you seem manly. A dress would just look nicer. Why don't you let me make you a dress?" Galina said hugging my shoulders. What was this?

"Next thing I buy will be fabric." I promised them. But I was getting my shield if it was the last damn thing I did. I tugged Branwain's hair affectionately and walked off to find my shield. Several more minutes and I had looked through all the shields. A saw a man looking at me oddly and he walked up. His thick leather apron marked him as a blacksmith.

"What you looking for, maid?" He asked me. His ginger colored hair reminded me of fire.

"I need a good shield." I said, not elaborating on the subject. He looked at me as if I was touched in the head.

"Girl, you're surrounded by fine shields."

"I need a certain shield… I had an idea I would like to try." I said apologetically and began to leave.

"An idea eh? What's this idea then?" He said and crossed his arms.

"I needed a shield about the length of my arm. Round and well made of course, but I was going to cut out a few chunks and add blades." He seemed baffled by the description so I grabbed a shield and began to show him. "See, if you cut out two small arcs on the side, no bigger than your hand, and not too deep. Not deep at all in fact. And if you could somehow sharpen the edges or even insert a blade on the edge…When you swung it like this-" I slowly swung the shield towards his neck. "You could turn it into a weapon."

He looked impressed by my description and stuck out his hand.

"Llyr." I shook his hand.

"How much do you want for it?" I asked realizing he would make it.

"How much can you pay me?" He asked and I smiled.

For the next few weeks I spent an hour every day with Llyr working on my shield. He showed me the way he made each layer of wood, leather, and metal. He was kind and generous with me. My shield would have cost more had he not liked me, but he claimed it was an investment. If it did well, he could sell more and make his fortune. I accepted this and we made changes to the design as we went on. One day I walked into his smithy to find him beating a multitude of designs into the metal.

"What is that?" I asked pointing to a quickly forming figure in the middle of all the swirls and lines.

"It's a griffin. A great winged beast." He said not taking his eyes off his masterpiece. I knew what a griffin was. What puzzled me was why he was putting it on my shield.

"Llyr, why are you beating the beast who guards treasure into my shield? Shouldn't it be something more…fierce?" I asked raising an eyebrow at it. It was fierce though. Its eye was wide and staring and its extended claws were large. He didn't answer as he finished, and I could only watch as he finished. By the time it was done, he had so skillfully wrought it that you could only see the griffin in the design if you looked for it.

"You're protecting this island. Some would call that treasure." He said as he looked me in the eye before going back to work.

"Now get out of here while I finish. Hard to work with you pestering me all day. Come get it tomorrow." He said gruffly and I left with a strange weight on my shoulders. I had never really thought about Britain as someone else's homeland. I shook off the feeling and walked back to the fort.

One thing I loved about Luguvalium was the new areas of warfare I could explore. Aside from being able to develop my own method of fighting, I was learning to track and scout. Junius's own personal scout, Galeron, had immediately begun taking us on scouting trips. Galina, who had excellent eyesight, could see the slightest movement in the trees. Branwain however was hopeless. She could barely manage to go undetected herself, much less find anyone else. My eyesight was good, but as good as Galina's. To make up for it, Galeron taught me to read the land. How to look for ways through a mountain range, how to find one's way out of a forest, how to tell where someone had ridden or slept… For the first time in a while, I was happy. In Gaul I had only existed. The only blights on our good fortune were Scato and the cough that tore at Galina.

"Stupid little scab…" Branwain ranted manically as we returned to our room. Scato, the scab she was referring to, had tripped her and made her spill the wine she was carrying all over herself. To add insult to injury, he had taunted her about her clumsiness. I personally attributed my tolerance to Scato. If I could live two years in the same fort with him without pushing him off the fortress walls, I could stand anything.

"Don't worry, he'll be squealing for mummy tonight." Galina said grimly. I looked at her curiously. She had found an interest in herbs and brews. "I put something in his wine. He'll be puking his insides out tonight."

I gave her an admiring look. She tried to look victorious but ended up laughing. Her peals of laughter were replaced by rasping. She quickly held a cloth up to her mouth while she coughed and I saw the blood spray it. Branwain, as usual, noticed nothing and I wondered how she didn't. A simple cough didn't last for over two years.

Some nights Galina skipped dinner and stayed in our room. When we came back, the room had a familiar burnt smell to it and Galina would smile and stare at the ceiling. I was annoyed that it took me several days to figure out what it was. One morning as we were getting ready, I strode over to her Roman styled bed and reached under the mattress. She tried to stop me, but I whipped away with the large satchel before she could do anything. Branwain gave me a bewildered look as I sniffed the bag. I stuck my hand in and pulled out a handful of seeds.

"Seed." I said and passed the bag to Branwain. She stared at the bag and I watched the realization of what it was dawn on her face. She looked over to our hearth and looked at the flat stone sitting by it. We both looked at Galina. She had been using the seeds for weeks.

"Where did you get this?" Branwain snapped. I realized she had noticed Galina's growing weakness and cough. The seeds, which had been used by our people for countless generations, couldn't be healthy for Galina. I guessed she had put a blanket in front of the door to trap the fumes as she threw the seeds on the fire hot stone. That explained her serene face and balmy attitude.

"It keeps me from hurting…" She in a frail voice and I saw that she was close to tears. She looked at me and straightened up. I saw her shoulders go up and she blinked her eyes several times. "I'm dying. It helped me forget."

I felt Branwain sit down on the floor next to me. I couldn't imagine what those words must have cost Galina. For myself, hearing those words from her lips made something in me crack. I practically bounded across the room and embraced her. She broke down and began sobbing in my arms. I realized how much I loved her right then, but I couldn't put it into words. Branwain joined us and I never wanted to imagine life without my cousin and our friend.

Okkkk! I'm still trying to get the stupid quick edit thing to work… No luck… I know that Luguvalium was a Roman/Britain settlement near the wall and I know some basic facts, but for the most part I made up stuff to fit my story. The seeds in the story are actually cannabis as the Scythians used cannabis seeds to…relax I guess. Look it up if you don't believe me! Galina's disease is actually a real disease too!


	5. Duty

Ohh yay reviews! Keep it up!

Our family had never let Branwain and I use the seeds before. We had been too young to use them when the Romans arrived, but Galina had used them a few times before we left. That night she invited us to use the seeds with her. I wish I could say I was slightly hesitant or at least cautious at first, but I can't. I was thoroughly excited at the idea and I thought I would still be in control of myself. I was wrong. We laughed at nothing and danced around the room with our arms wide open. When one of us began to shout nonsense, the other two would shush the loud one while giggling. The first hour or so was erratic and I found myself doing things that made no sense. I couldn't wipe the meaningless grin off my face. After that however, my experience was astral. Galina and Branwain still laughed and swayed, but I sat in front of the fire and was riveted by the golden flames licking the air itself. I don't know how long I stayed there but my face was chapped from sitting so close to the fire when I woke up next to the dying embers.

I was quiet that morning and barely spoke for the entire day. Branwain and Galina kept giving me worried looks as if they feared the fumes add addled my wits. I was fine, I knew that much, but I had decided not to repeat the experience. The ethereal feeling I had late into the night was unreal, but the part before made me shiver. I recoiled from the idea of not being in control of my actions. I abhorred the idea of being at the mercy of whatever whimsical thoughts passed through my head. There would be no more steam for me.

Several weeks later Branwain and Galina were sitting in the mess hall when I returned from a private scouting trip with Galeron. The scout had taken me near the wall to monitor the woads. He didn't seem surprised that more and more woads were coming over the wall, and he told me neither would Junius. After the second day I put two and two together.

"Rome's leaving Britain." I stated. He laughed and handed me a stick of some chalky black substance. I stared at it.

"What? You want me write the woads a letter?" I asked him sarcastically.

"Don't pretend to be stupid. It doesn't suit you." He replied. He took the stick and outlined my eyes. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is it very pretty?" I asked wryly.

"I would run far away if I ever thought you were angry at me." He said gravely. "You look like the Morrigan. The maiden, of course."

"If you had said the crone, I would have stabbed you." I said dryly.

"Lucky me." He said equally as dry. "It'll keep the sun out of your eyes."

"What sun?" I asked amusedly.

When we returned to the wall Scato gave me his usual condescending smile.

"My my. Trying to pass for a female? Is that why you're wearing cosmetics? It's not helping. A proper Christian woman would be in a dress and in her home. Not pretending to be a soldier." He said thinking he had shamed me. "Of course, we can't expect much from a barbarian…"

I sighed sadly.

"I was hoping to look enticing… but then I saw you, and I realized I couldn't compare to your beauty. My lady, you are a radiant flower among Romans…" I said with a sweeping bow. For a moment I thought he might run me through.

"My- my lady?" He could barely get the words out with out choking.

"Actually I wear it so I can see an enemy better. You know… Get an arrow right…through… the… heart." I said before he could get over his distress and gave him a predatory smile. He looked slightly taken aback at that. I locked eyes with him until he looked away and then I finally blinked. I gave Scato one last disgusted look before going to find Galina and Branwain.

"That. Is. Terrifying." Branwain said the moment I sat down. Galina grimaced and gently took my face. Her soothing hands held my face while she examined me.

"That won't do." She said and smeared the kohl with her thumb.

"I don't care what it looks like; Galeron gave it to me to see." I protested quietly. I didn't want to disturb her to much. She was playing with my hair.

"I just smudged it. It's not so harsh now, it's actually quite pretty in an exotic way." She said as she braided my hair. I tried not to feel drowsy.

"Of course if anyone else tried it, they'd look like a whore or a barbarian." Branwain said cheekily. I narrowed my eyes at her, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

"Oh before I forget, Scato and I had a lovely conversation…"

I looked at Junius not sure whether it was his sick, twisted idea of a joke, or if he was serious. Galeron had just returned from a long trip and suddenly we were going to meet Arthur?

"Arthur? Artorius Castus and the Sarmatian knights? We're going to meet them?" Galina asked excitedly. She expected handsome knights in Roman armor. I remained silent.

"Don't twitch Branwain- Yes we're leaving tomorrow." Junius said looking at Branwain who was fairly buoyant with the idea.

"Why?" I asked sharply. Branwain gave me an annoyed look at ruining the moment. I ignored her though and tried to read his response.

"Irish." He said.

"How many?" I asked with some interest. As always, I was battle ready.

"Galeron has reported around two hundred, but there could be more. They've been using the coastal forests as a sanctuary. I sent Scato and his men there two days ago to meet up with them. Apparently the raiding horde is a bigger problem than we thought, so we're being sent for." He said grimly. I shrugged and went to go pack my things.

That night I found Galina making excuses not to go to dinner. There were circles under her eyes and she no longer had that healthy glow of a young maiden. Branwain shrugged and left to go to dinner but I stayed. I stood near her and waited for her to tell me what was wrong. I didn't need to ask; if she didn't want to talk about it, I could at least offer some comfort.

"I'm afraid." She said after minutes of silence. I looked at her surprised. It was not what I had expected. "Two hundred. That's an army."

"I'll be there." I said. "I swear I won't let any harm befall you."

I was not one for dramatic declarations, but I meant it. I would die for her if it was called for.

"I've never thought of what it would be to die on this island. Ever since I knew that I was dying, I never though of dying in battle." She said and her eyes were in some far off place I couldn't go. I couldn't save her from her thoughts. "What will my parents do if I never come back? This isn't my land. I don't want my bones to lay here."

"You will not die here." I promised. She smiled sadly.

"You can't save everyone." She said. I could try. "If I die here, send me east. Don't carry me. I want…Just put me in a boat and set fire to it. Let me sail east while I burn." I couldn't listen to her talk like that and I couldn't watch her glazed eyes stare into nothing, so I left her there and went to dinner.

The next day Junius surprised me by putting me in charge of Galina, Branwain and the other forty or so soldiers. We set off towards the coast and Arthur. I didn't let the others see how eager I was to see the knights. It wasn't meeting them that excited me; I wanted to see them in battle. Their feats were legendry and I wanted to test my skill against theirs.

Galina's disturbing tranquility faded away to girlish fantasies as we rode closer to the forests. Branwain as usual was talkative and outspoken. I however, reverted to my quiet self. The night before we arrived I made sure every arrow was perfectly constructed, that my bow was strung tightly, and that ever blade I owned was razor sharp. I polished my shield and honed the deadly edges. I made sure every leather scale of my soft yet thick harness was cleaned and I laid out my supple leather gauntlets and a blue tunic that was so dark it was almost black. Galina said it brought out my eyes and I wanted to impress. The next morning when we arrived, I went to greet with Scato, my fellow captain, and Arthur. Galina and Branwain rode with me automatically.

"You both look nice." I said staring straight ahead. Scato, looking as pompous as ever was in full Roman military attire and was on a new horse. It was a handsome horse, but not as big as our Sarmatian breed and it paled in comparison.

"Hello Princess." I said cheerily greeting Scato. At the sight of us he looked as though he was about to swat a fly. "That's a pretty pony. Let's race!" I finished in a sweet voice. He turned a lovely shade of rose which made Branwain's smile broaden. I heard several choked guffaws and sniggers and looked up to where several rugged looking men sat astride their horses. There was something distinctly familiar about them. It felt like I had found long lost kin and I realized I had just recognized my fellow Sarmatians. Before I could get a good look at them however, I was shocked to here a voice I had not heard in a long time.

"Well met Hecate." Lionel. I almost fell of my horse. I actually heard Branwain stop breathing. I quickly regained control of myself and gave him a small smile.

"Well, well. Lionel. A knight of the great wall." I drawled. He smiled at me and then at Branwain and Galina.

"Well, well. My fair lady Isolde. Leading Sarmatians and Romans alike. You're moving up in the world." He said as charming as ever. He looked older, more mature and stronger.

"Women in charge of armies…" Scato scoffed. I looked at him until he found something else to look at, the blush returning. My smile had long faded. I looked around at the other knights who were watching the exchange closely. Other than Lionel, there were seven men. I picked Arthur out immediately. I was a handsome man in his mid thirties with a flop of curly ebony hair. There was an air about him…His face was lined with kindness and his eyes were honest. I could see how men followed him. Here was a man who could lead. I had time to look at one more man before Arthur began to speak. He had even curlier dark hair and his chiseled face was flawless. His thin, well trimmed beard accentuated his aristocratic smile. I saw the jolt that went through Galina's body when she caught sight of him. She had found her knight.

"I'm Arthur from Hadrian's wall. You must be Isolde." Arthur said looking at me with a neutral expression. I nodded and held his gaze. I didn't think it would be very inspiring to gush about how much I had heard about him and his men.

"I can see why Lionel was so heartbroken at leaving Gaul." The perfect looking man said. I found myself smiling wryly at him. "I am Lancelot and we have all been forced to listen to Lionel rave about the beauty of the famed Amazons…" If Lionel was charming, Lancelot was godlike. Even my hot-headed cousin, who normally had something to say about everything, was speechless and pleased. I decided Lancelot was a good person to have around when it came to silencing Branwain.

"Lancelot, don't harass the captain." Arthur said in a practiced manner. I got the impression that this wasn't the first time Arthur had to keep Lancelot on a leash around women. "Ladies, we need to discuss the attack."

Arthur and I discussed the attack for the next few hours or so and by the time we had agreed on a plan of attack, I was forever impressed by Arthur. He was wise beyond my expectations. Galina and Branwain had gone to mingle with the knights and prepare.

"I've heard good things about you." Arthur said after had finished. I looked at him curiously. Wasn't that what I should be saying?

"I've heard colossal stories about you and your men from many people. Other than Lionel, what could you possibly have heard about me?" I inquired.

"Bela. He was quite impressed with you and the other two. He said you were the greatest student he had ever taught. I've been warned not to ever draw a sword against you if I valued my life." He said giving me an evaluating look. I returned it. I could not have been more pleased with Bela's praise.

"I am honored to be under your command." I said honestly. I may have been in charge of my own company of men, but I ultimately I was under the authority of Arthur. I liked this man.

I found Galina and Branwain sitting with the company of knights and I took a seat between Lionel and Galina. Lionel snaked an arm around my waist and looked at me.

"So Isolde. Should I be comforted that you and Arthur have joined forces to devise our plan?" He asked with mock worry.

"Me, perhaps so. Why would you fear Arthur's plan though?"

"Ahh." Lancelot said knowingly. "You'll learn soon enough. Arthur listens to his heart over his head sometimes."

"Well Isolde is the balance to that." Branwain said exasperatedly. I looked at her and smiled grimly.

"Still bloodthirsty?" Lionel asked. I didn't answer.

"Where's Balin?" I asked suddenly. All the men looked cheerless at the name and I felt my stomach drop. "When?"

"Not four months ago." A younger looking man said with a voice full of emotion. His brown curls, scruffy beard and cerulean eyes complimented his handsome face. There was something lion-like about his face and the passion he demonstrated.

"Woads…" Another man said. His long, tawny hair was unkempt but his face was pleasant and appealing. I realized Branwain and Galina must have discovered this earlier in the day as they looked only saddened, not shocked. I kept my face emotionless and looked away. "He was a good man. I'm Gawain and that is Galahad."

I nodded. Balin was free.

"Ah! I see not all of my fellow knights have introduced themselves to you." Lancelot said as if he was ashamed of them. I looked around at the three other knights who I had yet to hear speak. "Men, be friendly. This is Isolde. Master of Scato."

"I'm Bors and I'm the only one with any sense around here." A coarse man with a shaved head said loudly.

"Dagonet." A giant man said. The last man, who had not said a single word to anyone since I sat with them, continued skinning the hare someone had caught. He looked up for a moment and gave me a calculating look which I returned. His piercing hazel eyes, prominent cheek bones and thin, bowed lips made for a handsome yet feral appearance. As if to accentuate his striking looks, his cheeks were tattooed with what reminded me of talons and his dark hair and capricious braids were untamed. He held the look for a moment and I wondered what he had observed about me.

"Tristan." He said dispassionately. Another moment passed and I realized admiringly that I had never met a person who had unsettled me so. I was finding slightly difficult to actually hold his gaze, but I managed. He looked down and continued his work while I turned to Branwain and began to discuss the attack that we would launch at dawn.

I awoke when it was still dark and most everyone was still asleep. It was to the largest battle I had ever been in and I was torn between excitement and worry. I was in charge of a group of men. It was my fault if they died. They would die while carrying out my orders. The thought made my skin crawl. I didn't want to be responsible for anyone other that myself. Of course I always felt responsible for Galina and Branwain. It had been my idea that had led to us being taken by the Romans. If I died with a sword in my hand, it would be enough for me. I tried pushing these thoughts away by walking down to the creek. It was quiet and untouched. The sounds of nature filled my ears as I sat down and I closed my eyes. I focused on each sound and smell individually. Eventually I stood up and splashed my face with the icy water. I made my way back to the camp feeling much better and began to go over my equipment. I had a quiver packed with arrows and my old Phrygian helmet was polished. I smiled at my odd assortment of weapons; my first weapon, a gold adorned dagger my father gave me in my ninth summer, my mother's curved sword which Branwain had dubbed Pata, killer, the machaira Bela gave me, the bow I myself had made, and the deadly shield that Llyr had made me. I nodded at Dagonet when I saw him wake up and he gave me a small smile. I reverently put on my goatskin harness and gauntlets. I strapped my dagger to my thigh and put both my swords on my back. I attached my quiver, bow and shield to my saddle and stroked Kolaksay's neck. He snorted and nuzzled my neck. I spent the next hour with my horse until everyone was awake and ready. I mounted him and rode into the camp to hurry up Galina and Branwain.

"Try and be a little more eager." Gawain said in a mock reprimand in reference to the fact that I was dressed and mounted before everyone had even woken up. I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. Branwain, who was known to sleep like a rock, was not yet awake. Ridiculous! I hopped down from my horse and grabbed a water skin while smiling wickedly.

"ISOLDE!" She choked out. She leapt up and shook off the chilled water. Before she could tackle me I raised my hand.

"There's a severe punishment for striking your commanding officer." I said solemnly and she growled. I dodged her neatly as she landed face first where I had been standing. "The least you could do is make a good stab at it."

"Galahad, I think I've found something more amusing that you!" Bors said throwing an arm around me. I shook my head amusedly. I had expected cold, merciless killers, not real men. The only man who seemed to fit that mold was Tristan, and I found him disquieting. I caught Galina gazing at Lancelot and she blushed prettily and began to outline my eyes with my kohl. She smudged it as usual and Gawain whistled. I liked these men already.

Our attack was swift. Those who were mounted rode into the forest first and were followed by the foot soldiers. As soon as they heard us coming, the Irish fled. We chased them out of the trees and onto the coast. They never had time to get on their ships however. In the forest, seven raiders had fallen with my arrows sticking out of their backs, but once we burst out of the trees, I drew Pata. I rode behind a man with ginger hair and lopped off his head. My assault was almost absentminded as I tried to watch the knights. Bors, Tristan, and Galahad fired arrow after arrow until eventually they turned to other weapons. Bors' knuckle blades fascinated me. He was absolutely brutal with his punches. Galahad's weapon of choice was a smaller sword which he swung with lightening speed. I watched with morbid fascination as Gawain's mace crushed his victim's skull, and Dagonet's huge sword practically severed a man in half. Arthur fought like a hero from some romantic tale. His sword strokes were not merciful in the least, but he still managed to look as if he offered his enemy an honorable death. It was Lancelot and Tristan who managed to impress me the most though. I had never seen fighting like that. The three men who I watched him kill in a matter of seconds never had a chance. A slice across the stomach while a second sword slashed the throat of another man and then both swords impaled the last one. Tristan fought with only one curved, sabre like sword. He was artful in his killing. His sober face and eyes focused on each man he killed as if they were the only two men on the battlefield. He was in no hurry and I saw no rage in his fighting. He was simply enjoying the fight and doing what came natural to him. All at once I was filled with a strange excitement knowing I was fighting with these men. I was off Kolaksay in an instant with Pata and my shield in hand. A rat like man leapt at me and I parried his blow, while our swords were entangled I swung the shield at his head and neck. The sharp shield edge caught the side of his neck and ripped through it nearly beheading him. Before his body hit the ground I was on to a new man. He swung a huge sword at me and I jumped back to keep it from cleaving me in two. I stepped on the flat side of the blade before he could raise it. I applied pressure suddenly and the hilt fell from his hands. He had an instant to look bewildered before I shoved my sword at an angle through his neck into his chest. Another man caught my eye. I watched as he beheaded a Roman soldier with an expert sword stroke. He looked up and saw me. I smiled and he made his way towards me. I put Pata back in her sheath and drew the machaira. We circled each other for a moment and he suddenly lunged at me. He was good and the fight lasted several minutes. Finally he raised his sword to strike at my shoulder, but at the last moment he twisted the sword to try and impale my torso. I turned quickly in a circle and hacked at his middle in an upward motion. A second later he fell with a deep rift from his ribs to his ear. I killed a few more men when I decided to look around for Branwain and Galina. I thanked the gods that I did because I saw Branwain trying to take on an isolated group of seven or so Irish. She threw herself into them and killed one with her knife and another with her crowbill. A solid knock from a shield sent her flying away. Stupid stupid stupid. I ran towards her shoving random people as I went. I reached her just as a man was about to chop her to bits. I crouched under his swing and slit his middle open. Branwain jumped up and scrounged for her weapon while I turned sideways to avoid one man's thrust while I slashed the throat of another. I thrust my sword into the fighter behind me and ignored the pain of a blow to my shoulder. I had my dagger in my hand in an instant and put it the offending man's throat. I killed one more just as Branwain's crowbill thudded into the last man's chest. Slightly humbled, she thanked me.

"That was foolish." I said darkly and swung my shield at the man who tried to axe her. She nodded and disappeared into the battle again. I did the same and soon it was over.

The dead were sorted and burned by that evening. Ten of the forty men Junius had put under my charge had died and I told myself that it could have been worse, but I couldn't help the cold feeling in my stomach. I wondered if Arthur felt the same heavy, guilt every time one of his men died.

"You can't blame yourself." Gawain said laying a hand on my shoulder.

"The Roman's put us on this island. We do the best we can." Galahad said and handed me a wet cloth. I stared at it blankly until I realized what I must have looked like. I touched a bloody hand to my face and it came away even bloodier. I wiped my hands clean and checked on Branwain and Galina.

They were already cleaned up wiping down their horses. Branwain smiled at me and I returned it. I gathered my weapons and headed down to the stream. Perhaps some people could go to sleep with everything they owned covered it someone else's blood but I couldn't…It might damage my weapons. I took off my armor and scrubbed quickly at my hair and face. My tunic would need to be washed when I returned to the fort but in the mean time I could put on my spare. I began vigilantly cleaning my armor and weapons, not letting one speck of gore escape the rag. It was soothing and I was startled at the sharp call of a bird. I looked to where a hawk was flying straight towards Tristan, who was some ways down the embankment. The hawk landed on his arm and he thumbed the black and copper bird's beak. Tristan felt my stare and turned towards me. He made his way to me as I continued to scour my armor. I found him staring at my machaira and I tossed it to him. He nodded in thanks and examined the blade. He examined the sword avidly.

"Good sword." He said appreciatively.

"It's Greek. They used them centuries ago. Best way to slice through bronze armor." I replied evenly. "Your sword…It's from the East?"

He nodded and handed the sword back to me. The bird on his shoulder nipped at his ear and he looked at it.

"You hungry eh?" He said with a degree of affection. I kept the grin from my face. Strange man…

"Do you have a name for her?" I asked still looking at the helmet in my hands.

"A name means nothing to her." He said. "You fight well."

And with that he walked towards camp and I had a feeling praise was uncommon from the scout.

Crappy way to finish but I'm tired! I'm trying to make some parallels between Galina and Lancelot by the way… Comments? Reviews? If you are curious to what Isolde's mother's sword looks like, google up Russian kindjal and you can also look up a greek machaira. Comments? Reviews? Please?


	6. Between Friends

**Katemary77 **having something dark around your eyes takes the edge off the sun… the people in the middle east used to do it and that's what football players are doing when they smear their cheeks with that black stuff

**Dazzler420** yay you figured out what it was!

**Mondieu666-** yeah im trying…everytime I put an indention though, quickedit screws the whole damn thing up! hopefully it'll work this time

Catherine- I did describe it, but just in case someone couldn't really picture it.

_I hope you all like this chapter…I had fun writing it.

* * *

_

As we rode back to Luguvalium, I thought about my life. At nineteen I had already been in many battles and I had fought with Arthur and his men. I had nine years left until my freedom was returned me. What would I do until then? I couldn't imagine going to back to Luguvalium and living as a glorified soldier. Even the skirmishes and battles had lost their splendor. There was something great coming Arthur's way. Men like that are put on this land for a purpose.

"Eager to be back?" Galahad asked riding next to me. Gawain rode on my other side. I gave him a look that conveyed my answer.

"If it were up to me, you would come back to the wall with us." Gawain said and I smiled at him.

"If it were up to you… That would be frightening." I said dryly. He gave me a sideways look.

"You could do worse." He said with humor. "For instance if Lancelot was in charge of things" He called that part out loudly so that Lancelot heard him.

"Talking about my due godship? I knew you would come to your senses." He said adding in his beautiful smile.

"I believe the Christians have a word for that." I said thoughtfully. He looked at me curiously. "Something like…apocalypse. Yes that's it. The apocalypse."

Everyone laughed, especially Bors who was delighted at the new amusement in their ranks. Even Arthur smiled despite himself.

"Your tongue is sharper than your sword lady." Lancelot said in mock defeat. I accepted my victory with dignity and nodded my head arrogantly. Arrogant. That reminded me…

"Princess seems to have managed to survive the battle…" I said mournfully. Galahad growled softly at the gilded soldier who rode with a few of his men in the back.

"He's quite pissy." Gawain said casually as he cocking his head at Scato. "I was very tempted to tell Tristan to put an arrow through him during the chaos."

"No one would have known…" Branwain sighed wistfully.

"Well there's always next time…" I said darkly. Even Tristan nodded. Scato it seemed annoyed everyone.

* * *

We reached Luguvalium with no problems much to my disappointment. Arthur and his men would stay the night and leave in the morning. I wanted to go with them more than I could ever have imagined. I had known them for only a few days, but I knew that Galina, Branwain and I no longer belonged anywhere but with them.

I reported to Junius the losses we had sustained and he squeezed my shoulder. It comforted me a bit, but I had already pushed my feelings of guilt down to a place deep inside of me that I rarely visited. It was easy I found, pretending that something wasn't there. Arthur entered war room and looked at me and then and Junius.

"Marcus Junius, I thank you for your aid in this." He said respectfully.

"Ah! It was my honor. Rome's enemies grow bolder and bolder. It is our duty to remind them of their place…" Junius said magnanimously. Junius was a good man, but he was still Roman. And Romans never understood the patriotism of other peoples, nor did they give the proper respect to it. "If you ever need something, do not hesitate to call on Luguvalium."

"If this is so, then I have something else I must ask of you." Arthur said and at once his voice was solemn. "I would ask that you allow me to take the Sarmatian women to be own knights."

Junius looked taken aback and all at once I realized how much value he put on us. We were his best fighters, and it would be a great loss. He didn't have much of a choice however. He owed any Sarmatians under his command to Arthur.

"Of course." He said but I could see his unhappiness. Arthur looked to me for conformation. Was this what I wanted? Yes.

"We leave tomorrow. Be ready in the morning." Arthur said. Junius nodded and I recognized my dismissal. I walked to the main hall with a strange feeling in my stomach. I strode to the table where my cousin and the others sat. Galina's face was pained as she watched Lancelot. She didn't want to lose whatever she thought she had found.

"Well Gawain. It seems Arthur agreed with you." I said quietly. There was silence. "We leave with you."

"I'll be damned…" Gawain said dazedly. Lionel pulled Branwain onto his lap and kissed her deeply. I raised an eyebrow at this and he raised one back. We celebrated long into the night until it was finally time to retire. Galina had not used her seeds for days, and I was surprised that she did not use them the moment we returned. She fell asleep with a dreamy smile and even the cough that sometimes shook her could not remove it. I gathered all my things into a pile and looked down as something clattered to the floor. It was the gold ring from Sarmatia…I had forgotten it. I slid it on my finger and was pleased to notice a perfect fit. It was the only feminine thing I owned.

* * *

I loaded everything I owned onto Kolaksay. My tunics, my cloak, my coins, my weapons, my armor… I hadn't realized how little I owned. Oh well. Lighter traveling. It would take us several days to get to the wall, and Kolaksay would need his strength. I was just about to hoist myself onto my horse when I heard Scato begin to speak.

"Scrawny bitch… She likes to pretend she's not sick. If the cough doesn't kill her, the woads will." I froze as he commented to the man at his side. He was talking about Galina and he hadn't thought I heard. I looked out of the corners of my eyes to those around me. Galahad and Tristan seemed to be the only ones who had heard the soon to be in pain Roman's words. His words hit a nerve in me. I calmly stepped back down and clenched my fists. I swung around and slammed my palm upwards into his nose. It shattered and he was down on the ground bleeding and sobbing.

"Oh my. That won't heal pretty." I said coldly and mounted Kolaksay. Galahad's eyebrows had disappeared into his curls and Bors was laughing madly at the scene. Tristan looked down at the Roman and turned away, ignoring the man's pain.

"Get down from that horse you pagan dog! I'll show you your place you heathen bitch!" He screamed through the blood pouring down his face. I gave him a frosty smile.

"Going to bleed on me princess?" I asked softly. His face was filled with rage as he looked at me. He struck the man across the face who tried to help him up. He shamefully walked back into the fortress and I smiled with cruel satisfaction. Branwain looked at me to see why I had finally lost it with Scato, but I pretended I didn't notice her stare. Arthur walked out and looked at us; the blood on the ground, Bors' and Gawain's laughter, and Galahad, Lancelot and my satisfied looks. He looked at Tristan who only shrugged.

"Knights, let's go."

The trip was enjoyable for everyone. We joked and spoke of home during the day and camped at night. I got along with the knights even more so than Galina and Branwain. Their morbid humor amused me to no end. Branwain and Lionel's bickering picked up almost immediately and I was pleased to see that I was not the only person who found it hilarious. Bors was cheerful to an unholy degree. He cackled at everything. Dagonet seemed to have a soft spot for us as well and Gawain and Galahad were soon attached to my side.

The first night we camped I had managed to be squeezed in between Gawain and Galahad and I spent the first hour trying not to invade their personal space. I was not sure how comfortable I was sleeping so near the two men and I kept myself as stiff as a corpse. It was not good sleeping. The second night I gave up and made myself comfortable. I woke up to Lancelot's amused smile as he and the others looked down at the three of us. My head was nestled on Gawain's chest with his arm wrapped around my shoulders and Galahad had made himself right at home with his head on my chest and his arms sprawled across Gawain and me. It was rather funny I admitted to myself. I grinned unabashedly as Gawain felt the large spot of drool I had left on his tunic. I was surprised at myself. I was never this free. Not even around Galina and Branwain. I shrugged and straightened my tunic trying to get up. Galahad mumbled something and held on to me tighter.

"Wake up or I'll shave off your beard." I said darkly. He jumped up immediately. I began getting ready as everyone tried hiding their smiles. The next few days passed blissfully as we rode towards Hadrian 's wall. When we arrived, a young man called Jols showed us to our rooms. The knight's each had their own room down the same set of halls. Mine, between Lancelot's and Gawain's, was much nicer than our shared room at Luguvalium. A Roman style bed, a hanging oil lamp, a wooden chair, an old worn mat on the cold flagstones, a fireplace, and a chest decorated my room.

"Is it to your liking?" Arthur asked concerned. I was a Sarmatian knight, not some wilting girl who had never stepped outside. I kept that to myself and thanked my new leader.

"Of course if it's not, you can always come to my room…" Gawain said meaningfully.

"Or mine if it gets too cold…" Lancelot said in an even more seductive voice. I kept my face stoic as I shut my door in their faces. I unpacked everything and laid down on the bed. I wondered if it had belonged to some fallen knight. The idea was somewhat unnerving so I stood up and went to find Branwain's room. I realized as I stepped out into the hall than I had no idea where it was. I passed by the doors that I knew belonged to Gawain, Dagonet, Lancelot, Galina, and Bors. There were only four more left in that particular hall. That left Branwain, Galahad, Lionel and Tristan. I picked a door and knocked. It opened almost immediately, but it was not Branwain. Tristan stared at me, waiting for the reason as to why I had knocked on his door.

"Branwain?" I asked and he nodded at the room next to his.

"That one." He said in his heavily accented voice and then he nodded to the room across the hall helpfully. "And that's Galahad and then Lionel."

"Thanks." I said and he shut the door. I was still slightly uncomfortable around him and I somehow knew he felt the same. I shrugged and opened Branwain's door.

* * *

Later that night Dagonet knocked on the door and told us that we could meet them at a bar later if we wished. We immediately followed him down to the small courtyard that served as a bar. Gawain already had a voluptuous blonde in his lap and Galahad was looking around as if to find his own woman. Bors cheered vociferously as we walked into the space and I shook my head. What had we gotten ourselves into? Galahad pulled me into his lap and I received foul looks from a gaggle of women who had been eyeing the handsome knight. I smirked and kissed his cheek. The heat from their glares could have roasted a person… Tristan and Lancelot watched amusedly as the women continued to whisper and hiss my way. This could be fun I realized and I decided to press my luck. I nestled even more into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. Tristan's lips twitched as his eyes went between the women and me and then to Galahad who was looking quite pompous thinking I had suddenly noticed how desirous he was. Lancelot's roguish smile was growing larger by the minute. Galahad, who was watching Bors and Lionel's game of dice, absentmindedly laid his hand on my outer thigh. I cocked an eyebrow at his hand and looked at Lancelot who was grinning madly like a young child who had caught a priest doing something naughty. I let one of my fingers trail slowly down his forehead, nose and it stopped at his lips. I traced his lips, torn between laughing and some strange feeling I couldn't place. I was nineteen, but the opportunities of courtship and love had never presented themselves in Gaul or Luguvalium. I had never even been kissed or had a boy even show any interest. Neither had Galina or Branwain as far as I knew. Galahad looked at me half delirious and smiled. I couldn't hold it in any longer and I began to laugh. I slid off his lap next to Tristan who was having trouble not laughing himself. Lancelot handed Galahad the entire flagon of mead and Galahad, realizing what had happened, downed the whole thing. I itched to climb back in his lap, but I refused. Lust was a new feeling for me and I was eager to explore it.

"Sorry." I choked out and Gawain looked over.

"What you do to the boy?" He asked looking at Galahad's crimson cheeks.

"Nothing." I said quietly and kept a straight face.

"Then why are you blushing?" Lancelot asked coyly. I looked him expressionlessly, willing my cheeks to fade.

"Not used to men eh?" Tristan said but it wasn't much of a question. Gawain shook his head. An hour later Galahad was leaning against my shoulder and slurring his words.

"You know, I've only got two more years in this place and then I'm free. Free." He said. Free was the only word he said clearly. Gawain looked at him and began to stand up.

"Better get him to bed before he goes off about Rome again…" He said and hauled Galahad to his feet. I took one arm as Gawain took the other. Gawain I noticed watched out for Galahad like an older brother.

"Is there a reason you take responsibility for him?" I asked as we reached Galahad's door. We heaved Galahad onto his bed.

"I had a brother here at the wall once. Agravaine… Galahad reminds me of him." He said and splashed Galahad's face with water. The effect was immediate and I made note to remember it.

"What? Oh…" He said suddenly noticing his surroundings. He pulled me down beside him and laid down, still quite drunk. "I'd kiss you if I could sit up." He said as seriously as a drunken man could manage. Apparently I had drunk more than I realized for I bent down and kissed him unceremoniously. He threaded and hand through my hair and deepened it. It wasn't romantic in the least and I was more interested in how it was supposed to work then why it was supposed to be done.

"I'll never know why women find him attractive when he's drank too much." Gawain said dryly. I waited another moment before finished it. Kissing was nice I realized. I suddenly realized how it must look. I had not known the knights for long and already I was on Galahad's bed kissing him while Gawain was still in the room.

"That was stupid." I said and tried not to berate myself as a whore. Gawain's face changed as something suddenly dawned on him.

"You've never-" He began.

"No." I said shortly. He snorted and pulled me towards him. Galahad's kiss was enjoyable, but sloppy and tasted of drink. Gawain's however had an element of attentiveness to it. He, as opposed to Galahad was not drunk. The kiss was even longer and more passionate. When he let me go, my knees were somewhat weak. He opened the door and we both stepped into the hall.

"Galahad and I understand. A girl needs practice." He said while his eyes dances..

"You sound like you actually believe that." I said equally as dry. He opened his door and went in.

"I do." He said and shut the door. I went in my room and laid down. They would most certainly not tell anyone I knew. They were honorable, if a bit rough around the edges. And not to mention they probably hoped it would be a recurring thing. It would not I told myself sternly.

"Can't go around kissing friends…" I said to myself as I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

* * *

"You're improving." Galahad said as I rolled off of him two days later. So much for not kissing knights I thought sardonically. Gawain was out practicing, but he had already got to me earlier that morning. It was just fun and we all knew it. They still bedded women at night and kissed me during the day. Even if I had allowed them to take me to their beds, they wouldn't. Our fun remained innocent, to a degree. Galahad took off his tunic and rolled on top of me. The next two hours were spent in hopes of "teaching me the essentials" of kissing. At noon however we both sat up and decided it would be wise to quit before we got carried away. I went and sat next to Branwain who was eating as if she hadn't eaten in days.

"Have you been out running?" I ask looking at her face. She had wonderful coloring.

"No." She said in between a bite of bread and cheese. I shrugged and grabbed my own food. Galahad came in a few minutes later and sat next to me. There was nothing awkward or forced in our conversation I realized happily. No one knew, and Galahad and Gawain still only thought of me as a friend. No less, no more. I did however smile as his hand slid up my thigh under the table. I slapped it away and he grinned. I gave him a warning look. Tristan, ever watchful, gave us a calculating look. I kept my face neutral, waiting to see if he would show any judgment on my actions. He held my gaze for a moment and I looked away.

Eventually I stood up and went to go practice with my sword. I had barely drawn Pata when Tristan stepped out of the shadows. He had his curved sword in his hand and looked at me expectantly. I nodded to the challenge and we circled each other. When I looked past the stone like countenance, I saw the relaxed self-indulgence in his face. It was one of the few times he allowed himself to be untroubled. His gait was slightly eager, but with the laziness and confidence of a predator who knew the limitations of his prey. I felt my face become taut with anticipation. How would the predator like to become the prey? I had seen him fight. His unnerving calm and serene face would drive any enemy to attack recklessly. He was used to a sloppy first attack. One of passion. I shrugged inwardly. I wanted to see how patient he was. I straightened my back from my assault position and carelessly walked around him. I twirled Pata lightly in my fingers as I strolled around him. He was ready for me to swing at him and it was annoying him that I didn't. Several minutes passed and we had an audience. Gawain, Galahad, Lancelot, and Dagonet all watched on intently. I only saw this out of the corner of my eyes however because my eyes had not left Tristan's. His face conveyed nothing of what he felt as he stared piercingly at me. Other than the small knowing, upturned corners of my mouth, which I knew to be quite infuriating, my face was as void of anything but focus as the scout's. He seemed to have realized I was in no hurry to attack him and I saw his muscles tense slightly. It reminded me of his hawk. The way her wings stiffened just as she was about launch herself into what would inevitably be the other creature's demise. As coordinated as he was, there would be one moment when he was vulnerable, and that was when he moved to attack me. I saw his arms begin to rise with his sword as he simultaneously moved towards me. Before he could take a full step, I had used a burst of energy to strike at him with the blade. He parried it just in time and then tried to propel my own sword downwards and away with his own. The sound of steel sliding on steel rang through the air and I whipped my blade out from under his. We both stepped back momentarily.

The look on his face was one of newfound respect but then it quickly went back to his calculating look. I shook my hair confidently. Years of battle had snipped off odd ends of it, leaving me with haphazard layers scattered through my hair. It was virtually impossible to keep it out of my face by pulling it all back, so I resorted to braids. Most of my hair was separated into messy sections and braided. It still fell into my face occasionally, but mostly the braids kept it pushed back.

"Nervous Tristan?" Lancelot asked provokingly. The scout made a disgruntled sound and I was pleased to note he sounded just as unsettled as me. I may have surprised him with my skill, but it would not happen a second time. He quickly slid sideways and attacked my right side. I met his sword and we fought fiercely for several minutes. I was sweating as we stepped back from each other and so was he. His sword movements became wondrously fast and I struggled momentarily to pace my own to his. He took the opportunity to step right up to me and attempted to stab his sword into what would have been my lungs had it been a real battle. I stepped back and rightwards and slashed right across his chest. He stared bemusedly at the thin slash that now ran across his tunic. I raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. I wasn't done with him yet. There were cheers from our audience but we paid no attention. I was ecstatic to have found someone who could last more than a few moments against me.

Feeling even more confident, I decided to make the first move this time. He was ready and swirled to swipe at my knees from behind. How had he known I would go first? I was forced to make an awkward jump and I landed on one knee. I grabbed Pata with both hands and raised my sword up in front of my head as a shield against his sword. We stayed like that for a moment, looking past our swords. I knew he had won even before he snaked the thin blade under my own to flip it out of my hands. He looked down at me as the edge of his saber rested against my throat. I watched in fascination at his cold eyes as they looked at me. The look on his face was so solemn as if it were a real battle. He had proven that I was not better the same as I had proven I was his equal. He could have slit my throat with the sword right then and there and I couldn't have wished for a better death.

Lancelot helped me off my knees and I gave Tristan a quiet smile. It was a strange smile, one I couldn't place and he returned it. It was almost a smirk but with respect of kindred spirits. I no longer felt so uncomfortable around him as Galahad and Gawain threw their arms around me in congratulations.

* * *

Oooh controversy! Its soooo hard to keep my character to one hot guy when there were so many of them in this movie… So I figure, hey nowadays its ok for people to screw around before they settle down…why not then? Who knows who she might get with? Actually all of you probably do…REVIEW 


	7. A Woad and a Scout

I opened my eyes and then narrowed them. Two months ago when I had arrived at the wall and I would have had my dagger out in a moment had I felt someone in my room. Now, I only glared at Branwain and Bors.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing asleep?" Bors asked me and poked my forehead as if to see if I was really alive. I stared at him annoyedly and considered ensuring that he would father no more bastards. Vanora was pregnant with the eleventh and I pitied the poor woman.

"Wall? Woads?" Branwain said loudly. I could have sworn she was related to Bors. I cursed whoever had sent them to wake me up. And then I actually thought about what they said. I leapt out of bed and pulled on my clothes. We were supposed to be heading out to monitor a small strip of land above the wall. Arthur was trying to scare the woads away from the wall. Show them the Romans had not yet abandoned the island.

"We leave in an hour." Bors said with a gleeful smile. A whole _hour_? By the time my hand wrapped around my sword handle, they had fled out the door. I groaned and fell back on my bed. I heard the door open quietly and I pointed the sword at the door.

"Branwain, I swear one day I'm going to-" I was cut off by a familiar mouth covering my own. Perhaps it was not Branwain. I helped Galahad out of his tunic. I was quite fond of his torso and I did not try to hide it. It was another much loved aspect of wall life. Gawain and Galahad were dearer to me than brothers, but I didn't look at them like brothers and I knew they did not consider me a sister. Several minutes later I felt Galahad's hand start to slide up my tunic. I tensed for a moment and then I pulled my tunic off. I still had the cloth that held my breasts in place on, but it was enough. Galahad's hands didn't stop there though and I soon let my own hands wander. We jumped a while later when the door opened. Gawain heaved a sigh at the sight of us.

"Lock the door next time. Anyone could have walked in." He said with the patient voice of an older brother. His mouth parted surprisedly when he noticed two tunics on the floor instead of one and my half naked frame. He walked over and hauled Galahad off of me. He mumbled something and I picked out the words "fornication" and "stupid ass". Galahad laughed while blushing and began to put on his own tunic. He walked over to my shield and began inspecting it. Gawain, who had started to hand me my tunic, paused and looked at my body. Evidently changing his mind he took Galahad's place and began to kiss me with his easy confidence.

"What's in the middle of- You just pulled me off of her!" Galahad sputtered as he turned around. I smiled languidly and held out an arm to him.

"There's room for one more." I said huskily. Gawain and Galahad looked at each other and looked disgusted. Gawain looked like I had asked him to cut off his own manhood and Galahad looked like that was a more preferable option. I smiled at my victory. I itched to pull one of them back onto the bed, but I held the urge in. I quickly packed my things and Galahad soon left to pack his own. Gawain had just smiled and started to come forward and pull me to him when the door flung open again.

"I seem to have left something." Galahad said and promptly dragged Gawain out. I groaned. Damnit.

* * *

We rode for several hours northeast. I personally didn't think ten knights and a Roman would send the woads running back to their trees, but Arthur it seemed, put more faith into our reputation than I did.

As we rode closer to the eastern coast, Arthur sent Tristan, Bors and I on more and more scouting trips. Tristan rode apart from us half the time, but when Arthur sent just Tristan and me, we stayed together. On the sixth morning, Tristan stopped me suddenly. We sat absolutely still and listened. Even Kolaksay's breathing had become inaudible. Someone was talking a ways off. It wasn't the harsh language of the woads, but something more guttural. Saxons. We made for higher ground and looked down upon the forty or so Saxons that had set up camp. What were Saxons doing this far inland? I looked to Tristan but I found nothing in his expressionless face. I began to turn Kolaksay around and he nodded. We rode back to Arthur and reported.

"How many are there?" My leader asked.

"Forty." Tristan said in his low voice.

"Something's not right." I said. Arthur was silent for a moment.

"We should pick them off." Lancelot said wisely.

"When it's dark. Might as well get them before they can grab a weapon." Galahad said darkly. Dagonet agreed and Branwain grinned also.

"We'll attack in the morning. Good visibility, but they'll be caught unawares." Arthur said finally.

"Send them scrambling…" Gawain said amusedly. Bors chuckled viciously and I smiled grimly.

We rode a little farther away from the Saxon encampment and prepared for our foray. We lit no fire just in case they had sent their own scouts out but that didn't stop our loud talking. Bors produced a skin of strong ale and passed it around. I closed my eyes and took a deep swallow. Tristan sat next to me and did the same.

"You know, woads aren't very nice looking, but Saxons have to be the ugliest damn bastards I've ever seen." I said seriously. Tristan grunted in agreement.

"I've never seen one thank the gods." Galina said shuddering.

"Hope that you never do." Lancelot said with mock seriousness. "They take captive women and shave their heads. They have to walk around naked for the rest of their lives. Of course, I wouldn't mind you doing the same…" He finished and gave her a wink. My smile faded as I watched her normally pallid cheeks grow pink. Galina was still beautiful with her strong features, but she now ate even less than ever and her cough sounded like rocks grating on each other. The fevered gaze she often directed at Lancelot worried me and I wished he wouldn't lead her on. I saw Tristan's eyes bore into Galina and I wondered what he saw. Death, aphrodisiacs, obsession? I couldn't tell. A man who observed everyone else's' expression had little use for his own.

I sighed as I stared through the tree tops. I couldn't sleep. Galahad's arm lay around my waist and his breath tickled my neck. My own head rested on Gawain's shoulder. I looked over as the owner of my pillow turned over to face me.

"Awake?" I asked.

"Mm." He said. I rolled closer to him, with Galahad still wrapped around me. I nuzzled my neck into him for comfort and he wrapped his other arm around me. He lowered his face and kissed me. I could tell he was smiling and so was I. There was a sort of thrill to secretly kiss one's friend while in the middle of a group of sleeping people. A while later I suppose we had grown less quiet for I heard a small cough. We both lifted our heads at the same time. He quietly swore as our heads connected. I however already felt the blood rushing to my face. Tristan's eyes glinted in the darkness. How much had he seen?

"Enjoying the show?" Gawain whispered good-humoredly. The scout's shadowed face remained still and Gawain laid back down with a sigh. We laid without touching each other for a moment until we shrugged and moved back together. I was close to sleep when I heard a voice which sounded suspiciously like Galahad's mutter something that sounded like "serves you right…"

* * *

The next morning we rode swiftly to the Saxon encampment. Bors, Branwain, Gawain, Galahad, and I took one side while the others spread out around the other side. We began firing arrows all around the Saxons and they panicked. They couldn't figure where the arrows were coming from and it all turned to chaos. I smiled as my eighth arrow thudded into a man's throat.

"Eight." I said and Bors swore.

"That one's particularly ugly…" Branwain said pointing towards a foul looking man. His ratty yellow hair swung around his dirty face and beefy arms.

"Put him out of his misery." Gawain said disgustedly. I nodded in agreement. He fell with five arrows in him.

"Mine hit first." Galahad said assuredly.

"Ah, you're wrong. I obviously killed him." Bors said giving the rest of us a look one would give to a small stupid child.

"No I did-" Gawain began but was cut short.

"Ewww." We all said unanimously. We recoiled. The hairiest man any of us had ever seen had run out of a tent with no shirt on. Jiggly, hairy fat…I felt my stomach turn. He was soon felled with arrows from everyone, even the knights from the other side.

"The damned Saxon won't stay still!" Galahad roared as he frantically tried to aim his bow at a Saxon. The man was running around madly, trying to escape the arrows that rained from all sides. Soon we were all trying to hit him. The man was quick, and all of our arrows thudded into the ground. I was highly annoyed. So far I had come closest to hitting him, but I still could not kill him. Suddenly there was an arrow sprouting from his head and we whipped around. Tristan looked at us smugly as he notched another arrow.

"Bloody scout…" Galahad muttered. I blushed remembering the night before but Gawain only grinned. Tristan gave me an indescribable look and returned to shooting Saxons. I made a point to shoot just as many as he.

A day later we were riding near a lake outside of a forest when I stiffened.

"Arthur-" I was cut short as an arrow flew past my face. A woad fell out of a tree an instant later with one of Tristan's arrows. The blue people poured out of the surrounding woods like demons from some dark story. I rode down a few of them easily as I drew the machaira. I launched Kolaksay at a few woads near a tree and began hacking at them without mercy. A flash of blue later and I was staring at a pair of bright green eyes and I realized one of the damned woads had knocked me off my horse. I drew my legs up and kicked him bodily off of me. I nearly snarled with annoyance. I had never been dismounted in my entire life. Before I could dissemble the doomed woad, two more had attacked me. I struck the woman's sword repeatedly until her arm weakened from the vibrating metal. My sword left a deep gash in her chest and I twisted and stuck my dagger into the ribs of another woad. I realized that positioning myself so near the trees was unwise, but I welcomed the challenge. Four more dead woads and I found myself facing the one who had tackled me. He smiled wickedly and I found it strangely attractive. His long wild brown hair, vivid green eyes and extensive woad tattoos were arrestingly handsome. The small axe and knife he carried were constantly moving and distracting me. He let out a yell and leaped at me. My sword snaked around his axe immediately and I flung it away. To my chagrin he pulled out another, slightly larger one and winked. He attacked with a series of ducks and retreats and it was beginning to anger me. He spun on his foot and slashed my arm. I touched the blood and gave him a deadly look. I struck at him and he ducked it nimbly for a not so small man. Before he could do one of his damned twirls or retreats I slashed at his face. He mirrored my own reaction and felt the small laceration that marred one of his eyebrows. I cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled sweetly. Before anything else could happen however, there was a long drawn out roar from a horn and just like that, the woads melted back into the forest.

"Quickly." Arthur said and we obeyed. We were all mounted and riding swiftly away immediately. A few cuts and bruises had been sustained but nothing serious. We had been attacked in woad territory, but we had miraculously escaped. My thoughts kept returning to the emerald eyed woad, but I pushed the thoughts down.

* * *

Back at the wall five days later we all sat around the round table.

"How's the new one?" Galahad asked Bors. Bors looked at him from where his head rested on the table confusedly.

"Oh ten? He's-" He began.

"Eleven." Lancelot said as he massaged his arms. We were all quite sore from the uncomfortable ride back. Arthur had made sure we rode through every nook and cranny for miles above the wall before returning.

"Vanora says it'll be soon… I almost wish we were still above the wall. She's as mad as a Roman these days." He said trying to move his mouth and body as little as possible. My own shoulders were aching and knotted. Even Tristan's face showed a little discomfort as he stared at the wall from his dark bangs. Arthur walked in at that moment and slumped in his chair.

"Arthur," I said darkly. "Let's leave the north to the woads from now on."

"We accomplished nothing." He said tiredly and rubbed at his eyes.

"There's too few of us." Dagonet said comfortingly. Arthur needed reminding that there was only so much he could do for his duty. We sat in a family like silence for a while before we all went our own ways. I returned to my room and pampered myself with a nice hot bath in a large basin I had brought in. I was even happier when Gawain came in and massaged my tense shoulders while my hair dried. I wasn't surprised when I woke up and realized that it had sent me into a deep sleep. The small amount of light in the room and the golden warmth seeping from the fireplace had sent Gawain into a slumber also. I shift underneath him and his eyes opened lazily. We resumed what Tristan had interrupted only a few days before.

"That was… wonderful." I said breathlessly a few hours later. Gawain smiled knowingly and I had no doubt I was one of many women to have enjoyed Gawain's skills. He had never tried to bed me, but that did not mean we stuck only to kissing.

"It's a pity the woads didn't capture you." Galahad said pleasantly from the doorway. "Then I'd have Isolde all to myself."

"You couldn't handle her all by yourself." Gawain retorted.

"Nothing wrong with sharing, boys…" I said with mock fairness. "There's enough to go around."

"Indeed there is." Gawain said and slapped my backside. A few minutes later with our tunics newly put on, we stepped out into the hall and were about to head towards the bar when I heard a sound come from Branwain's room. Galahad looked at me disbelievingly… Was that a man's voice? Galina opened her door right at that moment looking alarmed.

"What is that sound?" She asked and I held a finger to my lips. Dagonet stuck his head out into the hall and looked at us and then and Branwain's room. A moment later Lancelot appeared with Arthur and then Tristan and Bors walked over. That was definitely a happy man who was making the noise. We heard splashing and then another sound. And a very, very happy woman. Lancelot unceremoniously threw the door open and we looked in. Branwain and Lionel were in a water basin together. Naked.

"Oh dear gods." Gawain said in a dry voice. Galahad made a wheezing sound and Bors happily thumped him on the back to help him breathe. Branwain and Lionel were looking at us with highly embarrassed faces.

"Lancelot my friend, I'm in a tub with my lover." Lionel said trying to retain his dignity. Branwain's mouth was open in abject horror.

"Well then…I'll just…shut the door…" Lancelot said in a slightly high pitched voice. He slammed the door closed and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"That was…" Gawain said uncomfortably.

"Awkward." Dagonet finished. Galina's cheeks were blood red. Tristan kept shooting disturbed looks toward the door and I shuddered. They all took women and joked about it, but to see Branwain and Lionel…That was different. We all stood there for a moment longer before Bors broke the silence.

"So that's why she's been so rosy for-"

"To the bar!" Arthur said and we all practically ran.

I sat down and grabbed the large flask from Bors' hands and promptly drank it all.

"I'll be having nightmares about that for weeks." I gasped. Tristan sat next to me and quirked his lips.

"Should have seen it coming." He said amusedly. I snorted and began to talk with Dagonet and Lancelot. Branwain and Lionel came in a few minutes later with whatever dignity they could muster. I didn't know whether to laugh or be amazed. She was wearing a peach colored dress for the first time. I smiled and shook my head silently. Madness. A few hours later and Tristan looked up. I saw him look at a proud looking, auburn haired woman. She caught his gaze and held it for a moment before smiling in an enticing way. They both stood up and walked out of the courtyard. Tristan may have been different from the other knights, but he was still a man. He didn't take a new woman every night like Gawain or Lancelot, but he did have his fair share. The women were not stupid enough to paw at a man like Tristan, but they were always willing to answer his call. Sometimes he sat with his arms around a particular woman until it was time to retire, but other times he simply looked at his chosen bedmate and left with her without any form of courtship. He never took the same woman for more than one night in a row. I imagined he was not the most affectionate of lovers, but that didn't keep women from being drawn to him over and over again. I shrugged away the small heavy lump in my stomach and turned to Galahad. His hand found mine under the table before he got up and walked out. I waited a few minutes before doing the same. Everyone was to drunk or busy to notice and we found a nice quite spot in the stables. If anyone interrupted us there, I would kill them.

"You know Galahad, Gawain was very nice to me today. I'm afraid you're going to have to try harder than normal to compete with him." I said somberly. His own face mirrored mine as he began undoing my tunic.

"I'll do my best."

* * *

"Arthur, we have a problem." I said the next morning. Galahad and I had awoken that morning to a rider bursting into the stables. He was about to piss himself as he began rambling to us.

"Arthur, a man says people from his village have disappeared." Galahad said. Arthur and the others were in the middle of breakfast and I smirked at Gawain who was giving Galahad a nasty look. I quickly snatched the few pieces of straw from Galahad's curls and my tunic. Tristan's ever sharp eyes caught the motion and he looked me in the eyes. I mentally berated myself. Tristan had now caught me with two of our friends and he probably thought I was their whore. I realized I was being unreasonable. Tristan had never judged me before. At least not that I knew of. He should be able to discern the truth.

"Disappeared?" Lancelot said sitting forward curiously.

"Farmers who stay out late in the fields…" I said. "All the men who go hunting."

"How long has it been happening?" Arthur asked, his brows knitted together.

"A fortnight perhaps. Five men have disappeared." Galahad said and I nodded. Arthur sat back and sighed.

"Woads?" Bors asked. I shook my head.

"Not woads…It's something else." Galahad said.

"Wonderful." Gawain drawled.

"Could be Saxons." Tristan said to Arthur.

"Why are they hiding in the forest and picking off villagers?" I asked trying to work it all out.

"Doesn't sound like Saxons…" Galina said but Dagonet's face was unsure.

"When can everyone be ready?" Arthur asked suddenly. Galahad's frown deepened.

"Few minutes." I said shrugging. Might as well get it over with.

"Tristan, Isolde, ride ahead. The others and I will follow behind." Arthur said pushing his chair back and standing up. Tristan and I walked briskly out of the room and began to get ready. I was putting on my kohl when Tristan poked his head inside the door. It seems no one, myself included, thought knocking was necessary any more. His eyes asked me if I was ready and I held up a hand to tell him to hold on. When it came to scouting, every little bit of added visibility counted. I was having difficulty because the mirror I normally used was in either Branwain or Galina's room. Tristan fidgeted impatiently and took the kohl from my hands. He held my face steady and outlined my eyes carefully but quickly. He took his thumbs and gently smeared the black substance around my eyes. I had always thought Tristan was attractive, but I was surprised to find myself wondering if he would make a better lover than Gawain or Galahad. As soon as he was done I stepped away and he followed suit. I grabbed my things and we were out of the wall gates in a matter of minutes.

* * *

We rode across the lush green hills for a while until we came near the village. We didn't go into the village; instead we immediately began scouting around it. We found nothing.

"It's not woads." I said quietly to him. I was sure of it. There was something going on. I looked towards the village. There was nothing going on. I couldn't see one man, woman or child. Tristan moved his horse a bit closer to mine.

"The forest is still." He said and looked uneasily at the surroundings. His hawk sat on his shoulder and let out a small sound as if she agreed with her man. Our bows were out in and instant the moment we heard the snort. I swore as I saw Gawain and Galahad.

"Arthur sent us to look for you. He, Lancelot, Dagonet, Bors and Galina are patrolling the fields." Gawain said. I could tell he was apprehensive too.

"Where are Lionel and Branwain?" I asked.

"Arthur sent them to question the villagers." Galahad said as his horse pawed the ground. Something was amiss.

"You know, I haven't seen a villager yet." I said suddenly. Gawain looked at me.

"Not one?" He asked sharply. Tristan snapped to attention and looked towards where the village lay through the trees. He immediately began riding to the edge of the forest. We followed him and I knew something was wrong. The sense of panic was growing larger and it pulsed through my veins. I spurred my horse as fast as I dared amid the trees and burst out of the forest. There was no one in the village. I saw Branwain and Lionel's horses, but not the riders themselves.

"No." I said and we rode down to the village just as Arthur and the others rode towards it. Where was my cousin?

Ok REVIEW! There will be more Tristan… I promise.. I'm just trying to make it not so…"She looked deeply into his eyes and realized she was madly passionately in love with him and they made sweet sweet love." The next chap will be a bit sad.


	8. Lost Innocence

Katemary77- I know it seems a little…skanky but I'm trying to go for slightly realistic. She doesn't want to fall in love with anyone or get married, but she's never known what its like to have a little fun. But don't worry cause I have it planned out (as you will see) that something happens and she changes a bit… She's still a virgin so I say what the hell!

Kungfuchick- Whats confusing? I'd like to clear it all up.

Nora17

-I'm so happy yall like it!

Mondieu666

* * *

Galina found them first. They laid several feet away from each other, but it was evident what had happened. My very nature made me observe everything about the scene and it was branded into my mind. I would remember that day and picture in my nightmares for the rest of my life. Lionel's grey horse was nudging and whickering at his master, who lay near a hut door, in what I imagined was a mournful cry. Lionel's glassy eyes stared at the sky as if he had escaped into it. There was a deep wound to his stomach and the side of his head was nearly crushed from an axe or mace. His sword was in his hand and I knew he had died defending Branwain. When I turned my eyes to my cousin with Galina sobbing by her and shrieking I felt something inside of me die. She was still alive, but it would not be for long. I slid off Kolaksay and I nearly stumbled. My entire body felt numb. Her clothes were ripped and disarrayed and I realized what had been done to her. I wondered why she had not screamed but then I saw her neck and I heard the most sorrowful, anguished sound I had ever heard in my life. I was subconsciously aware that I had made the sound as I kneeled next to Branwain. They had slit her throat before they had…I couldn't make my mind put the words together. Whoever had held the knife had made a sloppy attempt to kill her. The long, jagged rip that marred her throat was deep, but not deep enough to kill her immediately. We had been scouting for several hours, and only the gods knew how long she had lain like this. She was slowly bleeding to death through her throat and mouth. Her hazel eyes were clouded with pain. They seemed to bore threw me and suddenly my vision was blurry. Her eyes flicked to where Lionel's body lay and she let out a heartbroken mewl. She couldn't even cry properly and I felt as though I had been stabbed somewhere in my chest as I heard her pitiful gurgle. I couldn't breathe.

"Branwain!" Galina shrieked hysterically. Her voice was thick with crying. "Branwain! Don't leave me! I'll make you better! Branwain!"

Galahad was weeping and I saw tears stream down Dagonet and Bors' faces. Arthur had sank to his knees a few feet away. Branwain's pallid hand gripped my forearm fiercely as her eyes stared at me pitifully. She wanted me to end it. She had no honor, no love, no…Everything had been taken from her. She gurgled despairingly as she tried to say my name. So much blood. I moved my hand as if to cover her mouth, but I drew my hand back sharply. I couldn't. All those times I had killed men because I was ordered to and now when my cousin needed me to help her, I couldn't. I was choking and sobbing. Lancelot stormed over and covered her mouth and nose with his hand. He stroked her face and tried to calm her. I held her hand and kissed it. It came away wet with my tears. I didn't pay attention to what the other knights did. I didn't look at Galina or Lancelot or anyone. I could only watch my cousin's eyes fade away until I was left staring at her empty shell. It had begun to rain. Galina's screams became frantic as she tried to shake Branwain's shoulders. She reminded me of a child in denial.

"No! Branwain! No." She kept saying no and no and no. Her screams faded to a miserable keening noise as she rested her head on Branwain's chest. I crawled frantically away from the body. That wasn't my cousin. It couldn't be. No one, no one would do that to Branwain. She was good and sweet and I loved her. I flipped over and was violently sick. Tristan touched my shoulder but I flung myself away. No. Branwain. No.

I stood up and looked at the sky and I let out a roar or a scream or a wail. I couldn't tell what it was. I tried to breathe. No luck. I fell down and curled up. My world was fading to black. Galahad was about to rush to my side to help me but Dagonet held him back. Lancelot was holding Galina in a death grip to keep her from hurting herself. Just as the last of the color had faded from my vision, it stopped. I took a long ragged breath. I was so cold. I could breathe and see. But I couldn't feel. I couldn't feel anything but rage. It was the very beat of my heart. It boiled in my veins. It was what had returned me from my darkness. The world had never seemed so unfair. I closed my eyes and calmly felt my surroundings. It had been Saxons from the look of the single dead man Lionel had managed to kill. From the look of things it had happened in the last hour. They couldn't be far into the forest. Gawain quickly checked the inside of all the huts as Arthur rose to his feet.

"Dead. All of them." He said grimly.

"They ambushed them." Tristan said while casting a worried glance at me. I walked calmly towards my horse and grabbed Pata and a dagger. Galina rose and made for her open weapons, but I blocked her path. It was cruel to deny her vengeance, but I would not lose her too.

"No." I whispered in a deadly voice, but my anger was not at her. I turned to Arthur. "Do not let her out of your sight."

Something in my face must have alarmed him because he nodded without question. I began walking towards the forest.

"Isolde!" Gawain called out. I ignored him. My cousin was dead. It was time for a reckoning.

I strode through the forest like an animal. I knew by instinct where the Saxons were. They had scouted and wreaked havoc inside the island; now they would head back to the coast. Let them try. The forest was deathly quiet. Whether from the unnatural Saxons, or from my fury I knew not. I realized I was getting close. How long had I been gone? I began sprinting towards them. They heard me and began to run. The ten Saxons did not make it far.

When I returned several hours later, I found the knights still in the village. They were burying the dead villagers. They had wrapped Branwain and Lionel in a few blankets from the huts. The villagers had no need of them now. Galina was still sitting where we had found Branwain's body. The earth was still wet with blood. Her eyes were glazed over and I realized that I had lost Galina. Whatever far off place she traveled to sometimes to escape, it was now her home. I called her name and she did not answer. I felt empty. Empty people could not cry. The men stared at the blood and gore that covered me head to toe. I was torn between relishing my revenge or being disgusted with the foul blood of monsters that covered me. There was a small pond at the edge of the fields and I walked straight into it and sat down. It was freezing but I ignored it. My body felt numb already, what could the cold water do? I wanted to stop loving Galina. I wanted to never feel love again. I couldn't make myself not love her. I couldn't stop loving Galahad and Gawain. My love for Arthur, Tristan, Bors, Dagonet and Lancelot was undiminished. I wanted to protect them from everything. Arthur from his own heart, and the others from the world itself. Tristan and I had formed a special relationship once we had realized we had much in common, and I had a feeling there was more to his past than he let on. I wanted to keep him from being so reckless and uncaring at his own fate. Eventually Arthur came and picked me up out of the water. I held on to him like a small child. He and Galahad put me in a new tunic and I held Arthur's hand.

"I'm so sorry Isolde. Can you forgive me? I should have been there. I should have known." He said sadly and I almost smiled. Things that could barely be called men had raped and killed two of his knights, and he still blamed himself.

"Arthur, I won't let her die." I said simply and he nodded. I felt such sorrow for my beloved leader. What must his heart be like? I had not the strength to stand it when someone I loved died. Arthur had lost over half the men he commanded and yet he found the will to go on. I loved him and respected him more than I thought I ever could at that moment. Bitterness still tore at me at the unfairness of it. They were in love and happy and so young and…I was calm however. Arthur would give me his strength.

* * *

I woke up in the morning and we finished burying the bodies. We rode back to the Roman wall silently in honor of our dead. Galina's eyes were unfocused and they haunted me. I could barely look at her. I rode next to Tristan most of the trip, for he alone sent me no apprehensive looks. Tristan alone did not seem disturbed by my vicious revenge. I had no doubt they had all heard the screams from the forest. I didn't regret my actions at any moment. I would _never_ regret it.

Galina stayed in her room for a week after the funeral. At night I held her as her blank eyes stared aimlessly. I woke up in the mornings and she was still awake. I rarely left her side during the day except to practice with my sword and when she used her seeds. One night I stepped out into the hall while she consoled herself with her seeds.

"She's endangering herself." Tristan said quietly as I quietly shut Galina's door. I looked at him trying to see where he was going with it.

"She's dead." I said. "Maybe she eats and breathes, but she's not the girl that left Sarmatia."

"Maybe so. Are you?" He asked pointedly. I thought about it.

"Don't know. I am what I am." I said and he nodded.

"Can she use a bow or a sword when she's like that?" He asked, but there was nothing harsh in his voice. He didn't want to me to be defensive.

"She knows when to hold off." I said firmly. He shrugged and said no more. I went to my room and laid down on my bed. I wondered if any of the other knights were out drinking or bedding women. I couldn't blame them if they were, but I still didn't understand it. I laid on my side, staring at the wall. I thought of my aunt and uncle. How could I face them and tell them that their daughter was dead and I was alive? Still, I did not cry. I couldn't sleep so I got up.

The cool night air hit me like a slap. I found myself at Branwain's grave, positioned next to Lionel's. I was ashamed to realize I had forgotten Lionel. My charming friend was gone forever. I kneeled in between their graves. A long time passed before I felt someone stand beside me. The quiet footsteps belong to Tristan. His silence had provided more comfort than any amount of talking from the other knights.

"Tristan, have you ever loved anyone?" I asked wearily. He stiffened and I realized I had probably offended him by insinuating that he was so aloof that he could not even love. He knelt next to me and stared straight ahead.

"My family." He said and I felt odd thinking of Tristan with a loving mother and father.

"Are they still waiting for you?" I asked. There was no knowing for sure if our families still had hope for us or not, but we could wish.

"No. They're dead." He said unflinchingly. I waited to see if he would expand on the subject. A few minutes later he spoke. "My younger brother died when I was twelve. My father and his wife were killed when I was seventeen."

"How?" I asked. I didn't care about bringing up painful memories. I didn't care about anything.

"We were nomads, we followed the old ways. We roamed the east mostly, but there were others there also. Easterners… They were always taking land and people. Almost like the Romans. One day my father's wife sent her son and I out to hunt. They caught us by surprise. He was only six. They rode through and burned our tents a few years later. Killed my father and her."

"And your mother?" I asked looking at him.

"She was lost when she gave birth. She died soon after my father found us." He said and there was no emotion to his story. I tilted my head thoughtfully. I had lost my cousin, but not my entire family. I nodded. I was sorry for his loss and he knew it. He put a hand on my shoulder and I was slightly alarmed at the touch. I needed comfort and he provided it. It still unnerved me how much he knew me. A few minutes later I stood up and went back to the fort, but he stayed and I wondered what old wounds I had opened up.

* * *

Days turned into weeks and I slowly slipped back into happiness. It was a second-rate happiness, but at least it wasn't constant sorrow. Galina smiled more often and Lancelot paid special attention to her in hopes of raising her spirits. She smiled for him, but she rarely ate and I saw the bright specks of blood when she coughed. For the next year she grew thinner than I thought possible and she was so fragile looking I could barely watch her. We held each other some nights, but talking to each other was too painful. We could only think of Branwain. And so we turned to the other knights for happiness. I loved Gawain and Galahad more than I could say, but I didn't kiss them anymore. Galahad had kissed me when he was drunk a few months after Branwain and Lionel's deaths, but we quickly put an end to it. It was no longer innocent. Arthur's strength and Lancelot's ready wit were irreplaceable. Bors and Dagonet were like fathers to me. Well…Bors was more of a dirty uncle… Tristan…Tristan was special. I felt like I knew him better than I knew myself.

"Vanora's angry at me again." Bors said as we rode out of the gates.

"By that do you mean she is occasionally _not_ angry at you?" I asked charmingly. He chuckled.

"Well…She's not angry at night when we-"

"Lalalalalala-" Galahad sang, pretending he was trying to block out the sound of Bors' voice.

"Bors, we know what goes on at night. You have eleven children to prove it." Gawain said pleasantly.

"She's not pregnant again yet is she?" Tristan asked. His beloved hawk flew down to his arm and he petted her affectionately.

"I hope not." Bors said as if he couldn't be sure.

"Well that's it. I'm staying a virgin. Maybe I'll be priestess or something." I said brusquely. _Eleven_ children and he acted like there could be _more_?

"Chastity?" Gawain asked alarmed.

"Pious? You?" Bors asked as if he thought the whole idea was absurd.

"Priestess to what I might ask? The god of war?" Lancelot asked amusedly. I shot him a grin.

"Perhaps." I said tauntingly. "You can be the sacrifice Galahad."

"Unlikely." He said stiffly.

"Well, not all religious duties call for virgins you know. The locals have their Beltane and if you wanted to get a head start…" Lancelot offered slyly.

"Beltane? Maybe I will start practicing!" I said and Lancelot had a short moment to look pleased with himself while Galina frowned. I thought of the most unlikely person… "How about it Tristan?"

"Wait-" Lancelot said annoyed.

"You can have all the practice you want." Tristan said staring straight ahead and Bors laughed, surprised that Tristan had played along. Dagonet smiled and shook his head. "We can start tonight."

"Sounds lovely." I said in mock excitement. Actually the idea didn't seem too bad. I hadn't been properly kissed since… I felt my spine stiffen and my face turn to stone. I wouldn't think about it. I concentrated on Kolaksay's strong legs and they pace that he walked at. Kolaksay's life was simple. He was a warhorse who enjoyed battle. He knew no sadness or fear. I willed myself to be like him. The knights kept talking but I remained silent.

* * *

I looked at the large Christian sanctuary. It was large and plain like a fortress. Why the Christian's decided to put a holy temple in the middle of nowhere by a forest I would never know… Strange people those Christians. And annoying too. We were to stay a few nights at the monastery and eliminate the local woad problem as they put it. I didn't know which side I would rather see triumph. A bunch of sniveling Christians or the woads who had been killing the unarmed holy men. We rode into the gateway and looked around. Men and women in simple but long tunics were scurrying everywhere. Three boys of about twelve came and took our horses.

"Father, I am Arthur Castus, sent from the wall." Arthur said as the best dressed of all the holy men stepped forward. He nodded somberly.

"The blue demons attack the men and women who farm our crops and any who wish to come and worship." The man with sparse yellow hair said calmly gesturing towards the small patch of farmland. For the most part, it seemed the monastery was self-sufficient. "I pray to God to bless whoever delivers us from the heathen threat."

I didn't know what was worse. Outright disgust at those who were not Christians, or this man's subtle mindset. The thought of supremacy was so inbred into his mind he didn't seem to notice that he had just completely disregard another people's culture. The Romans thought of my own people this way. Barbarians. Heathens. Pagans. Primitive tribes who were only useful for their skill with horses. There was so much more to us than that. We had a history richer than that of Rome. We encompassed an ocean of grass. Our gold was marvelously wrought and our people had known a freedom so great once. We had been feared by others for centuries. Our ways were different, not inferior. I may have lived to battle those such as the woads, but I would not dishonor them.

"Mador will show you to your rooms." The priest said as he beckoned a somberly clad boy forward. We followed the boy to the rooms we had been allotted. Galina and I would be sharing a room for our stay.

"Dinner is at six." The boy said and excused himself. I sat on the rather modest straw bed. It could be worse. Galina sat by our small window and let the sun warm her. I wondered how someone could look so peaceful and frenzied at the same time. I eventually left to go to the room that Tristan and Galahad shared. I could only imagine how that would turn out. They liked each other for sure, but they eventually grated on each others nerves. Galahad was laying down on his bed and I plopped myself right by him, ignoring his protests that I was not going to help him go to sleep.

"Why Galahad…Surely I'm not a distraction." I yawned. Galahad mumbled something and did everything in his power to make sure I was uncomfortable. I elbowed him in the ribs and smiled at his grunt. I laid down next to Tristan, whose face twitched annoyedly. He knew me well enough to realize it pained me to be alone with Galina and so he said nothing. I kept my distance from him out of respect.

"Isolde." I opened one eye and found Tristan peeking at me from underneath his ragged hair.

"You need a bath. The outdoors does nothing for your hygiene." I said.

"Later." He said and got up. Galahad was already gone. Galina knocked on the door. She was in her olive green dress. It made her hair look even more golden and I wondered if she was hoping to make Lancelot notice.

"When will you get a dress?" She asked with no malice. I looked down at my dark blue tunic.

"When you make me one." I said.

"Is that a promise?" She queried.

"Unless you make it painfully frilly." I swore. She smiled and I realized that I would soon have a dress. Tristan was already gone so we began our walk down to the hall where the holy men and women took their supper.

* * *

I was really sad when I wrote that…. It was necessary though. I hope yall don't hate me and my story now! Review? 


	9. Lover not Beloved

Mondieu666- Oh I just meant I'm glad yall liked the story!

OK not to put the pressure on, but I'm still waiting for the Exile of Numenor to update…. Awesome story…

Katemary77- I made you cry?

* * *

The hall where we took supper had an echoic quality to it. I felt as if my breathing could be heard throughout the hall. I sat in between Gawain and Galahad, uncomfortable at first. The only sound was Arthur's quiet conversation with the priest and the sound of everyone slurping at their soup. Our meal was a meatless, modest one of soup and bread. We drank water and Galahad drank it distastefully. The men wanted wine or ale to drink. Branwain loved wine. I closed my eyes for a moment. Gawain elbowed me and I looked up right in time for a mushroom to splatter against my face. I gave Bors a malevolent look. He looked slightly apprehensive. He had meant the offending food to hit Galahad. I threw the mushroom back into his soup and it splattered him and Dagonet. Dagonet looked at me stoically and then back to Bors. Assessing that it all was Bors' fault he stole Bors' bread and began munching contently on it. Bors, in turn, stole Gawain's bread. The holy men and Arthur all seemed oblivious to the war of food that was going on. Gawain stole Galahad's bread who stole my bread. I glared at Bors. He had started it. I grabbed Tristan's bread and tore a large chunk out of it with my teeth. He gave me a look frighteningly similar to the one I had given Bors. Deciding it was not worth having my eyes pecked out by his hawk, I was just about to return the bread when Tristan stabbed Lancelot's bread with his dagger and began eating it off the knife. Lancelot stared darkly at his empty plate before looking at Bors.

"Degenerate beast. What kind of man instigates a bread battle?" He asked. He did not steal anyone's bread, thus ending the vicious cycle. I offered half of my bread to Lancelot who accepted it graciously.

"Thank you fair lady. You are a goddess among these swine." He said attempting to grovel. Several priests looked up crossed themselves warily at the word "goddess". "I must find a way to repay you…Ah! How would you like to spend the night with me in ecstasy?"

"How would you like to wake up with a pillow over your head?" I asked flatly. Tristan snickered hoarsely while Galahad smiled manically. Lancelot slid an arm around Galina's waist. He was flirting with not one, but two women in a Christian sanctuary. The man had no shame…

"I'm sure there are other women who would appreciate my obvious…endowments." He said suggestively to Galina. She would have stripped naked for him right then and there had Tristan not coughed loudly. It startled her out of her heated gaze. Dear gods she loved him! I had prayed that it was a silly girl's fantasy, but now I saw that it wasn't.

"Knights, tomorrow we go hunting for woads." Arthur said suddenly. I raised my cup to that.

"You have women who fight with you?" A ferrety looking man in a brown robe said appalled. I stared him down.

"She fights as well as any man and she has never complained." Arthur said defensively. I was pleased when I realized he was defending me against a fellow Christian.

"The church has said it is against the will of God for a woman to be treated as an equal! The Bible says a woman should not wear the clothes of men! And Paul clearly states-" He began condescendingly but I cut him off.

"I have yet to be struck down." I said coldly. He looked as thought he would like to say something else, but the Father gave him a warning look. I locked eyes with him until he paled and looked down back at his food. Arthur looked at me and I relaxed. The mood was no longer so friendly and we quickly finished our food and retired.

* * *

"Galina?" I said as we laid down that night.

"Mm?" She said after she put a thin shift on. It was fairly see through and her hair had been brushed out to float over her shoulders. She looked like a maiden on her wedding night.

"Do you love him?" I asked softly. I could see her stiffen in the dark. She got up and laid next to me.

"Yes. When I look at him, I feel…" She said with her quiet joy. She began playing with my hair to calm me. I felt myself slip away… It wasn't fair. Her quiet hands had been able to quiet me even when we were children. She had an unfair advantage.

"What will you do when he leaves to return to Sarmatia? He will leave in nine months." I had never been one to try and make things less painful. She sighed and I yawned as her fingertips ran through my hair against my scalp. So sleepy…

"I don't know Isolde." She said. "When you are in love…It's hard to imagine life without them. You think they will be with you forever. It is not always so…"

I was twenty and Galina was twenty-three, but sometimes she seemed so much older. Her ethereal demeanor made her seem wise and ancient at times like these. Her quiet humming reminded me of the tranquil sound of a lazily flowing brook and I soon found myself dreaming of good days. I was vaguely aware of her standing up and leaving the room, but I wasn't conscious enough to guess why.

The next morning I sat straight up and stared at her bed. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Galina was not in her bed. She had left in the middle of the night. The pretty shift, the hair, the dreamy face… I was in a thin shirt myself but I didn't pay any attention as I stepped into the hall. I gently placed my ear against Lancelot's door. Nothing. I knocked and was rewarded by the sound of a groan from a still sleepy man and woman. I darted into Tristan and Galahad's room before Lancelot opened the door. Galahad snored peacefully as I entered, but Tristan looked sharply at me.

"Hello?" We heard Lancelot ask.

"Who is it Lancelot?" We heard an even softer, quieter voice ask. Galina was probably delirious with happiness. We heard Lancelot quiet her with the gentle patience of a lover. I felt sick to my stomach. Lancelot was like my brother, but how long before he went back to sleeping with loose women and broke Galina's heart? I told myself she was not so frail that she would break if Lancelot did not love her forever. Tristan looked at me to see how I was handling it.

"She wants him." He said to me. He thought I was in disapproval of her taking a lover. I shook my head.

"But how long will he want her?" He nodded understanding the problem. Why couldn't Lancelot understand the complexities of Galina as well as Tristan?

"You could not have expected her never to take a lover."

"I haven't taken one." I said quietly. I would not risk my sanity for that kind of _love_. A casual lover would have been easier to accept. But Galina was not the type of woman to desire a lover who meant nothing to her. She had always wanted romance and love. I should have seen it coming. I wondered if I actually had seen it coming and just denied it to myself.

"You'll not die a virgin." He said confidently.

"Perhaps. But why does she want romance? If she wanted a lover, why couldn't she accept a casual bedmate…" I knew I sounded stupid, but I didn't want her to end up with a broken heart. Tristan gave the tiniest of wry smiles.

"It's easy for you and I. We want different lives than her." He said knowingly. He was right. The damage was done. She was only alive when she was thinking of Lancelot and I would not take that away from her.

"I still don't see the problem with a lover being a friend and nothing more. A friend can warm your bed without inciting this passionate love madness." I sighed. Pity everyone did not see my logic. Love led to foolishness. All cultures had horrifying tales of the consequences of love.

"You've never had a lover. You are sure you wouldn't want him to settle down and marry you?" He asked looking at me with his dark hazel eyes. It would be easier to read him without those damnable braids hanging in his face.

"Marriage? Tied down to one person for the rest of your life? Running a household? Bearing children? Tristan, do you even need to ask?" I said with a small current of disdain running through my voice. Me? Settle down? Ha. His customary frown remained in placed but he nodded as if he had decided something. He stood up and pulled his ring studded tunic over his high collared leather tunic. He looked me in the eyes and then his eyes traveled down my form. I raised an eyebrow until I realized I was in my thin, un-dyed shirt and nothing else.

"Marvelous." I said dryly. He smirked and began to tighten his belt. I returned to my room and put on my own dark tunic of an indefinable color. I slipped my soft leather harness and grabbed my weapons. I left quickly before Galina returned to put her clothes on. I stood around in the courtyard and saddled Kolaksay. Bors was sharpening his knuckle blades while Gawain gave rapacious grins to the nuns. Eventually we were all gathered together, Lancelot and Galina last of all. Her glowing cheeks and his cocky smile couldn't have made it more obvious. Arthur tried to catch Lancelot's eye but in vain. He made sure he avoided the accusing stare of his commander. Gawain and Dagonet passed worried looks. I locked eyes with Tristan. His gaze calmed me and I stayed quiet.

* * *

I looked around the forest. We would have company before long I knew. The woads had been tracking us for two hours. Arthur had led us deeper into the forest, daring them to show themselves.

"Hunting game is more enjoyable." Lancelot said with blackened humor.

"Why is that?" Bors asked.

"The animals don't try to kill you."

"Excellent point." Gawain said eyeing our surroundings.

"Arthur." I said calmly.

"Yes Isolde?"

"Get ready to draw your sword."

"Why?"

"I'll give you three guesses." I said airily.

"How far?" He asked and his horse pawed the ground.

"They're here." Tristan said riding up to us. He had returned from scouting. An arrow suddenly thudded into my side. The leather armor and thick tunic kept it from lodging itself too deeply, but Dagonet quickly yanked it out of my side to keep it from puncturing my lung.

"Thanks." I gasped and drew my bow. We began riding back towards an open clearing. Arthur wanted to draw them out to the open. We were trying to ride like hell out of the woods and shoot over our shoulders at the blue men and women who shot back at us. We managed to get to the edge of the forest before we were forced to stop and fight. Bors let out a war cry before he threw himself onto a man. I ignoring the pain in my side and the growing wetness. Better to bleed than half my head lopped off.

"Galina!" I shouted and shot a man who was ready to spear her through. She blanched and let her axe finish the job. I let Kolaksay rear up and knock a few men away before trampling the last. A man who tried to stab my horse soon found his head separated from his body. Who stabs a horse? Fool.

"Oomph!" I said in a pained voice. Once again I found myself knocked off my horse and staring up at a pair of brilliant green eyes. "Do you like knocking the breath out of me?" I asked savagely as I bodily threw him off of me. The damned woad probably couldn't understand me.

"You're easier to kill off you horse." He said simply. Hm. Surprise surprise.

"You'd be easier to kill without your axe." I said seriously. He smiled grimly and attacked me. Would he never learn? This time I met him halfway and used my entire weight to throw him backwards. He was up in an instant, swinging that bloody axe. I began swinging with a reckless speed. I slashed him across the chest thinly before his elbow connected with my wound. Pain exploded beneath my chest and I nearly doubled over. Dirty, low- I nearly yelped when I found the mad woad kissing me.

"I'm going to castrate you before I kill you." I swore somberly as I yanked myself away. An arrow suddenly thudded into the woad's shoulder and Tristan began notching another arrow, ready to finish the job. The woad, obviously of some importance, sounded the retreat. We were left alone with over two dozen dead woads. I touched my lips. Who kissed their enemy? Was he _insane_?

"Why?" Tristan asked simply as he slashed the throat of a woad who was not quite dead. No one else had seen it apparently as they went about their business.

"I guess that blue paint does something to the mind." I said simply. How was I supposed to know why some foolish woad had kissed me in the middle of a bloody battle? I looked down at my side which was stained red and then I looked around. Galina had a deep cut in her arm, Dagonet had a wound to his leg, Bors was fine as was Arthur, Tristan had a deep score from his forearm to hand, Gawain had an arrow sticking out of his lower back, Galahad had a wide gash near his groin, and Lancelot had a nasty looking cut on the side of his head. Yes, Dagonet would be the most logical choice.

"Dagonet." He looked up. "I'm going to pass out in moment or so. I would be eternally grateful if you didn't let me bleed to death."

He looked at me uncomprehendingly for a moment before he caught me as I slid off my horse.

* * *

"Mfnganua."

"Is she trying to say something?" I heard Galahad ask.

"Her wits aren't addled are they?" Bors.

"No." Tristan said. I looked at them.

"Water." I croaked and immediately Galahad had supplied a drink.

"Try not to bleed to yourself to death next time." Bors said as if he was talking to a naughty child. I would have hit him if I could move. I still felt weak.

"How long?" I asked Tristan. Bors, Galahad and Tristan were the only one's in the room.

"A couple hours." He muttered while handing me a chunk of warm bread. I smiled gratefully. Food….

"We're leaving in the morning. You can ride can't you?" Galahad asked nervously.

"We could always leave you with that Christian dog that was so fond of you…" Bors said in a mock concerned voice.

"Tie me to my horse if you have to." I said firmly and Bors let out a booming laugh. I finished the bread and laid back down. Stupid woads.

* * *

We left in the morning. Aside from a dull ache in my side, I was fine due to Dagonet's care. Once we were back at the wall, we had an easy few weeks. No one called on our services so our days were spent practicing and being lazy and our nights were spent at the bar. I noticed ominously that Galina went to Lancelot's room at least every other night. One night a week and half later, Galina came to my room. She was holding something behind her back as she gave me a smile. Her cheeks were glowing.

"I have something for you." She said superiorly. I raised an eyebrow. "Well… Guess Isolde!"

"A dress." Her expression soured slightly.

"I can't win." She said and showed me the dress. It was a burgundy dress of some fine material. It had thin yellow embroidery on a few of the hems and a fine bit of material held it snug around the hips.

"That's a very fine dress." I observed. Her cheeks reddened.

"Well, they had brought a few bolts of fine stuff for the Father back at the sanctuary… It was a good price." She said and I smiled at her. I surprised myself and embraced her.

"Thank you." I whispered. She squeezed back.

"You smell nice." She said stepping back.

"Bath."

"Ah! Good. You'll smell nice and look nice." She said as she tried to tug my tunic off.

"As opposed to usual?"

"Isolde, don't put words in my mouth."

"I was only asking-"

"A little help would be nice."

"Sorry-Fermghf"

"There! You'll have to borrow my shoes-"

"I'm a knight, I don't have to look that pretty-"

"You're going to look like a real woman tonight if it kills me-"

"Your funeral."

"Isolde!"

"Fine."

"Your hair needs brushing."

"You do it." I said contently. I would wear a sack if she would play with my hair.

"You're helpless."

"Mm." I sighed, not really paying attention.

"There. You look beautiful." She said stepping back from me. She held up the bronze mirror. My face was scrubbed clean but she had lined my eyes slightly with kohl. My hair was brushed and cleaned with a few of my normal braids. My feet were attired in soft leather slippers. Not extravagant, but more feminine than the boots we usually wore. The dress fitted wonderfully against my torso before falling to a skirt at my hips.

"How did you get it to fit so well?" I asked while I swayed just to feel the soft fabric move with me.

"It's really not to hard Isolde. In your case I just made it big in the bust and hips and tight in the waist." She said and I looked at her till she gave in. "I used one of your tunics."

She grabbed my hand and slipped the coral ring onto my finger. I looked back at myself. My eyes were the darkest blue and they shone from my delicate features. I didn't look half bad.

"Are you going to stare at yourself all night? I never thought you to be vain." She said with no real impatience. I stood up and then sat back down. I played with the slightly flared sleeves of my dress.

"Galina." I said and I was surprised to find that her name sounded like a beg. She looked at me startled.

"Nervous?" She asked soothingly. As much as it pained me to admit it, I nodded. I was scared about facing my brothers in arms in a dress. Dear gods above. "I understand. Come when you're ready."

She smiled at me fondly before quietly leaving.

"I'm a coward." I said a few minutes later. It was just a dress! And they were my friends! A bunch of homegrown Sarmatians like myself! I cursed myself and stood up. I would be damned if I hid in my room all night over clothes. I began striding purposefully to the bar, but as I walked closer my steps slowed painfully down. The first man who passed me whistled and I knew I was blushing like a girl on her wedding night. Damn damn damn. I looked at the table where Galina, Lancelot, and Bors sat and at where Gawain, Tristan, and Galahad sat. Arthur and Dagonet stood in the back talking. I brushed past the tables where the others sat and made my way to Arthur. Gawain whistled as I walked by. He had not recognized me! Arthur and Dagonet looked slightly startled by the sight of me.

"You look beautiful." Arthur said honestly. Dagonet crossed his arms and nodded with an approving smile.

"Is my Isolde growing up?" Vanora asked kindly as she walked past to get some more ale. I smiled. She couldn't be more than seven years older than myself.Her baby was in one arm and she handed him to Dagonet who looked at it distastefully.

"Hold the baby for a moment." She commanded and went along her business.

"Hello eleven!" I cooed. The poor child didn't have a bloody name yet. The babe gave a gooey burp and I recoiled. Nasty little things. I had just turned to Arthur to discuss his strange religion when an arm slid around my waist.

"Why Arthur! Won't you introduce your pretty friend to your dearest companion? Or did you want to keep her to yourself?" Lancelot asked suavely. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and waited for him to notice that I was his fellow knight. "Lady I am- Isolde!"

"No, that would be me." I checked. He recovered quickly and gave me a conspiratorial glance.

"Shall we?" He asked wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh let's." I replied and he escorted me over to the table where Gawain, Galahad, and Tristan sat. On the way he flashed me to Bors and Galina. Galina smiled at us and Bors' elbow slipped off the table. I was beginning to be insulted. They acted as if I looked like a man normally.

"Gawain, Galahad, Tristan. I would like to introduce you to Isolde." He said and thrust me forward. I glared at him. He had tricked me into thinking we would play some joke on them, but really he had just put me into an awkward situation. Stupid pretty boy…

My thoughts of torture towards Lancelot disappeared quickly at the others' reaction. Gawain managed to drop the woman in his lap to the ground and Galahad's cup missed his mouth. He dribbled his ale into his lap. Tristan even choked on his drink.

"I don't know whether to be complemented or injured." I said flatly. "You might want to mop that up." I said and looked pointedly at the wet spot on Galahad's pants."

"Marry me?" Gawain asked.

"No."

"Eh." Tristan said.

"Eh?"

"Dry my pants for me?"

"Never." And with that I sat next to Galahad and Tristan.

"You look nice." Tristan almost mumbled.

"Thank you." I said. A few minutes passed.

"Isolde, will you get me another pitcher?" Gawain asked. I stood up and walked over to get more ale. Several more minutes passed.

"Isolde, go ask Arthur if he's heard any news." Galahad asked. I grumbled.

"Just because I'm in a dress doesn't meant I'm your new serving girl."

"Arthur, Galahad wants to know if you've heard any news." Arthur looked at me oddly.

"What news?" He asked. I looked back at the table and found them staring at me. I stalked back over.

"News?" I asked slowly. They looked away. "Why am I running errands?"

"So they can stare at you as you walk." Vanora said sliding some drinks to a near by table. I gave them a deadly look.

"Is this true?"

"You have such a lovely-" I cuffed Galahad's ear before he could finished. Gawain laughed hysterically and raised his cup to me. Tristan smirked and avoided looking me in the eye. I sat down again. They had the sense to look ashamed and conversation picked up again. Several cups of ale later and Gawain was laughing at nothing at all. Galahad was almost on top of me and Tristan was giving him alarmed looks.

"Dear gods. I'm off to bed." I said and stood up. I was bored and I felt odd in a dress. They all were acting strange. Stupid dress.

"Dagonet? When do you want to take my stitches out?" I asked. He paused and counted the days in his head.

"I forgot. I'll take them out in the morning." He said and I nodded. Once in my room I looked at the reflection in the mirror. It felt odd to have men look at you with… Desire I suppose. Galahad and Gawain had always made me feel desirable, but the way they had looked at me in my dress was different. I heard a small knock on the door.

"Yes?" I asked and Tristan walked in.

"I'll take out the stitches." He said. I nodded gratefully as they itched. His eyes were dark as they observed me through his hair. I went to pull my tunic up before I realized it was a dress. I shrugged and stepped towards Tristan. He undid the back of my gown and I let it fall to my hips where I held it in place. My breast band was in place and there was no need for modesty. I laid down on the bed and made sure he had access to wound in my ribs. The knife was cold against my skin as he deftly cut out the stitches. He ran a nimble hand over my skin to make sure it was alright and not hot with infection. I kept myself from shivering. He did not remove his hand however and I looked at him. He stared at me and I held the gaze. I didn't protest when he let his hand trail up to my neck. He ran a coarse thumb over my throat and all I could do was tilt my head back invitingly. I kept my eyes open when he kissed me. It wasn't passionate or aggressive, but it wasn't mild or sweet either. It was from a man who knew what he wanted and that was to bed a woman. He pulled back after several gloriously long moments. I had forgotten what real longing felt like. He looked down from his half sitting position over me.

"It wouldn't mean anything." He said wanting to make sure I had no other designs but a sleepless night of enjoyment. I had never lain with a man before and I decided it was about time. I didn't exactly plan on getting married and raising a family, but I didn't think it was necessary to deny myself a man's company. Tristan knew I was a virgin so I wasn't ashamed. I nodded and in an instant his mouth was covering my own again with that same deep kiss.

Several hours later I barely paid any attention as he stood up and dressed. He obviously did not want to finish the night in my room but it didn't bother me. As soon as I had the bed to myself I spread out lazily with satisfaction. We should have done it years ago I decided as I slipped into a hazy sleep.

* * *

I hope yall enjoyed that! Mm He's hot! Review! 


	10. Who needs love?

_Kungfuchick- I'm freakin jealous of my fictional character!_

_Knightoftheroundtable- Yay I'm so flattered!_

_MedeaSmyke- Perhaps! Not for a while though!_

_Tenshikoneko03- my thoughts exactly!_

_Everyone else! Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

_

When I woke up the next morning I was sore in places I couldn't really complain to Dagonet or Galina about. I wasn't about to complain though. I sat in my tousled bed and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. There was suddenly a knocking on the door. I quickly pulled on a tunic and straightened the bed before letting him in.

"Morning." He grumbled.

"Don't you look like a blooming rose." I said. He had drank to much the night before and was definitely feeling the outcome.

"Arthur says we're going to patrol the wall." He said and brightened at my own good mood.

"Nothing like blindingly white sunshine for the hangover eh?" He thumped me between the shoulder blades and I quickly dressed myself. I looked at Gawain as we walked to the stables. I chewed on my cheese thoughtfully. Gawain wouldn't think badly of me, nor would he tell anyone, but I still didn't want to tell him. It was my own secret, and Tristan's. If he gave it away, so be it. I tried to ignore how every nerve in my body sang when I entered the stable. Tristan looked up at me for a second before going back to saddling his horse.

"I can't believe I didn't notice how rosy your cheeks were before…" Bors said looking at my apparently rosy cheeks. Galahad smiled.

"That dress has opened our eyes!" Lancelot cried out. My lips twitched. If only they knew.

"Why are you blushing?" Arthur asked as he walked to his horse. I really was about to blush.

"Arthur how long will we be gone?" Tristan asked saving me. I could have kissed him. Actually I really wanted to kiss him. And then I wanted to drag him all the way back to-

"We'll be back tomorrow. We need to make sure the wall to the east is being manned properly." Arthur said as he mounted his horse. We nodded. I personally didn't care if the woads got over the wall. They were Rome's problem, not mine. Not to mention it was rightfully the woads' land. Of course there was no use pointing this out to Arthur. The man had allied himself with Rome at a young age, denying the British blood that ran through his veins.

* * *

We were gone three days, not one. I could see Galahad counting down the days, no the hours, until he was free. It had been a pointless, albeit necessary mission. Arthur had made sure a few stretches of the wall would receive more patrolling. There was no battle I thought mournfully. So boring. I made my way to my room when we returned on the third night. Tristan opened his door as I passed and locked eyes with me. He made sure no one was watching before he pulled me into his room. I was relieved that he wanted me again. We had talked as we normally did on the mission which surprised me, and there were no heated glances or stolen kisses. Such things were for lovers in the truer sense. Of course, that was how I wanted it, but it was unsettling to have no hints as to whether he had enjoyed the night and wanted to repeat it or not. His hand fisted through my hair and braids as he kissed me.

"Does Gawain know?" He asked once we were on his bed. I noticed it was more comfortable than my own. I shook my head and threaded my fingers past the hair in his face and kissed him. He dropped his belt and tunic next to the bed as he pulled me under him.

I started to detangle myself from Tristan as he slept. We both liked our own space and I liked having a whole bed to myself. His arms were unrelenting as they held me and I look at his face. Perhaps he wasn't asleep I decided as I found two dark eyes trying to read my face.

"You can stay." He said and closed his eyes. I accepted the offer and slid back closer to him. I had not been looking forward to dressing and trekking to my own room. The halls were cold and I was much warmer in his arms.

"I'm not a good bedmate." I said sleepily as I made myself comfortable. The only people I had ever shared a bed with were Branwain, Galina, Galahad and Gawain and none of them had minded the fact that I sprawled out regardless of who I kicked or shoved. I had a feeling Tristan would not be so generous. Nevertheless I squirmed so that I rested in the circle of his arms and our legs were threaded together. I hated sleeping in a small space and if he wanted me to stay, then he could damn well get used to me spreading out. He only made an annoyed sound and shifted his arm out from under my head.

Something was scratching my cheek. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized I was still in Tristan's bed, wrapped in Tristan's arms. I moved my head so that his beard no longer bothered me. He opened one eye. I stretched out and let the warm sunlight that poured through the window swallow me. I was quite content to stay there for the rest of the day. Warm sun, comfortable bed, even warmer man… Mmmm. I kissed him and closed my eyes. He let me stay like that for a few more minutes before kissing me again. Well if he wasn't tired anymore…

"Tristan! Have you seen Isolde?" I heard a voice ask. I swore inwardly and jumped up.

"No. Try the stables." Tristan said loudly to Bors. I was dressed in an instant. After I heard Bors' steps down the hall, I nodded to Tristan and went to my own room. Galina was there waiting for me.

"Where were you?" She asked not really paying attention. She was staring dreamily at the window. It was on the tip of my tongue. It would have been a relief to tell her. She was my oldest friend and she would understand. Or would she? She had dreamed of finding love her whole life and now she believed she had found it. Would she understand why I had accepted Tristan without love? At least not the love she thought proper for such circumstances. He was my friend, but I didn't… It would be impossible to explain to her. I decided all of this in a moment.

"I was with Branwain." I said quietly. That would keep her from asking questions. We never talked about her, and she was not going to ask me why I was visiting Branwain's grave. She did it too.

"Isolde, I…Isolde I'm with child." I looked at her sharply. _Lancelot's?_ My eyes asked. She nodded. I felt panic start to tear away at my stomach. I took a deep breath. Baby… Oh gods I had forgotten about _babies._ My hand itched to go to my stomach but I kept it by my side. I hadn't taken any measures against pregnancy at all. I could be… I looked back to Galina and straightened up. I would help Galina, and then I would help myself.

"What will you do? Have you told him?" I asked softly.

"I can't tell him. He…Isolde…I don't think he loves me." She said the last part as a half sob and I felt more than ever that I was right about love. Stupid stupid stupid! I was torn between wanting to comfort her or slapping her and saying 'Now you see? Wake up!' It wasn't Lancelot's fault really so I couldn't be angry at him. He was the way he was and Galina knew that. He would not change for just one woman. Against logic though, I pitied Galina. She loved him, that much I could see, but he his lust and love for her was a passing season. I had no doubt he loved her dearly, but not the same way she loved him. It would not be enough for her, the love of a brother. She wanted his body and soul. She wanted him to need her like she needed him. I could not comfort her no matter how much I wanted. I could only sit there and let her take solace from my company. She shuddered violently as she tried to control herself. She coughed savagely and I saw the mixture of black and red on the rag. This child could be the end of her I realized.

"Galina, there are other ways." I said quietly. I couldn't imagine taking the life of a baby, but if it would save her…

"No!" She in a crazed voice. For once she was not so ethereal. Her eyes were feverish as they stared at me. "I will not kill my child."

"Then what is to become of you?" I asked. I would not tell her what to do, but I had to make her think of the future. Arthur would never let a pregnant woman endanger herself in battle.

"We must talk to Arthur. Come." She said and I dared not argue. She walked as a woman who knew what had to be done as we practically ran to Arthur's chambers. She knocked furiously for a moment. Arthur opened the door and looked at her curiously. He let us in and I could see he had been pouring over maps of Britain. A small disk lay on his desk with the likeness of a man molded into it. I was not close enough to read the Roman letters inscribed into it though.

"What troubles you?" He asked for it was obvious something was wrong.

"Arthur-" I could see her courage flailing. I held her hand and squeezed it. She swallowed and took control of her emotions. "Arthur I am going to have a baby."

He looked pained for a moment. He didn't need to ask who the man was.

"What would you have me do?" He asked her earnestly. He would do whatever she asked of him even if it was only out of pity.

"Send me away." She said softly and I looked at her sharply. Away? I looked at Arthur, hoping he would tell her she was mad. To my horror I found him nodding.

"There is British lord to the south…He was my mother's kin. I can send you there if you would like Galina. He and his wife would care for you, and you could send me reports on the south."

"Thank you Arthur." She said and once again she had lost herself in her own world. Arthur looked at me and opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. I made my face unreadable and pushed away all emotions. It was for the best.

"Have you told Lancelot?" Arthur asked. She shook her head vaguely.

"He doesn't need to know." She said.

"It's his child too!" He objected but she would not relent.

"Arthur can't you see? I can't- It would only ruin things. He would feel responsible for it and… I will do this on my own Arthur." She said and he couldn't argue. Perhaps it was best if Lancelot did not know, at least for a while. It was the easy road.

Lancelot protested furiously when Arthur told the others the next day. He couldn't believe Galina would want to leave. When she looked him in the eye and told him it was fine with her, he was even more upset. I wondered if she was wrong about him. Lancelot would always flirt with other women and leer, but that didn't mean he couldn't love her. That wasn't true I told myself. The thought of losing her was hard on him, not only because he was not quite done with her, but because she was his friend. His fellow knight. She straightened her back as she rode out of the gates with three Romans soldiers as an escort. I was strangely proud of her strength. And just like that, she was gone.

* * *

After Galina left, I searched high and low for a young woman who I was told knew herb craft. She had smiled knowingly at me as soon as I entered her home and handed me a thick pouch of dried herbs. I didn't dare ask what was in the bag, and she didn't offer.

"Be careful." She told me as I paid her. "Too many for too long and you won't need to worry about them anymore."

I had stared darkly at the pouch she had given me. Did I ever want children? I hoped not.

I went to bed that night without going with the others to drink. I had a feeling Lancelot was going to drink himself into a stupor, and that I didn't care to see. I heard my door opened and I closed my eyes enough so that I looked asleep. Tristan walked to in and looked at me. When he saw that I was asleep he walked back out and carefully closed the door. I did not want to share the night with anyone. Galina had no longer been the dearest of my companions, but she had been my oldest. My last connection with my dead cousin. I hated to think of her giving birth alone in some distant place with out me. My dreams were sad and colorless that night.

* * *

Three months passed by with no word from Galina. Finally Arthur came to tell me she was doing fine and that her baby was growing. I smiled as I thought of Galina and how she would be appalled when her stomach grew large. Vain creature. We suddenly were very busy. The woads had grown absurdly bold. How close was the Roman departure I wondered? Arthur became increasingly weary looking. I felt the same way he did at times. I was not yet twenty one and I had until I was twenty eight to be released from Rome's service. The others however, had less than a year.

"Isolde! Getting a head start are we?" Bors asked plopping himself next to me at the bar. I was the first of the knights to start drinking. I had already finished a half of a pitcher of wine, but I wouldn't tell Bors that. I was fairly miserable. Galahad had been moaning about how their discharge papers couldn't come soon enough. I couldn't begrudge him his freedom, but it didn't make me feel any better. I tried not to look so sullen as Gawain and Dagonet sat down with us. Gawain however read me easily.

"Isolde, Galahad didn't mean to be such an ass." He said looking me in the eye.

"I know. I'm fine." I lied. Dagonet put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"We will miss you. And you will still have Arthur and Galina." Dagonet said with his stern kindness. It was common knowledge that Galina had left on account of Lancelot. I could only imagine how he felt about it. I longed to tell him why she had really left. A man should know that he will soon be father. I thought of Lancelot as a father and shuddered. Poor, poor child.

"We're leaving tomorrow." Lancelot said as he sat down at the table. Ah speak of the devil. "Woads again…"

Bors swore just as Tristan sat down. He looked at my miserable face and gave me an unreadable look. Eventually Galahad and Arthur joined us and I forgot my sorrows. I would not ruin their night by acting like a spoilt child. I stayed late into the night until I could no longer taste whether I was drinking ale or wine. I stumbled back to my bed and threw off my clothes. I was a solitary creature at many times, but I loved my friends. My brothers. I would miss them more than I could ever say. I looked up groggily as Tristan entered the room. He looked at me laying in my undergarments and my bitter expression and began to take off his tunic. I was vaguely surprised. We usually left each other alone when the other was not in a good mood. I didn't protest when he laid next to me and kissed me though. It felt good to be wanted, and it also felt good to have the man I wanted in my bed. He was rugged and dangerous. The best type of lover. He pulled away for a moment and locked eyes with me.

"Six months." He said. "It's a long time."

I could only nod for a number of reasons. A long time to whom? To men who were waiting on freedom, it was a long time indeed. For me, it would pass too quickly.

"Hey." He said and kissed me lightly. I gave him the smile I gave to no one else and he traced my lips with his thumb. The perpetual frown was still there, but it was slightly tender. I felt like his hawk, just waiting to be petted. I laid a pale kiss on one of his tattoos. They were not his only markings I had discovered, but they were my favorites. I let my fingers trace the one I knew to be on his shoulder blade. He laid his head on my chest under my neck and I kept tracing.

"Tristan." I said. He made a sound to show he was listening but I didn't speak for a few more minutes. When I finally did, I gently combed his hair away from his face. I didn't want him to hide from me. He liked it when my fingers ran through his hair.I could tell by the wayhe always closed his eyes when I did it. It reminded me of Galina and how much I loved her to play with my hair. I smiled sadly and continued combing his hair against the way it grew. "What do they mean?"

I laid a finger on his cheek as I asked so he knew what I meant. I moved my hand to the hair at the nape of his neck and began weaving my fingers through it. He was silent for a moment. Our kind often had swirling tattoos of animals covering our bodies, but the black slashes on his face puzzled me. I had once had a horse on one of my legs, but it had faded to a pale shadow. A ghost of my old life.

"Brought down a bear once. He gave me this." He said and moved my hand down to his side where a scar ran. It was from his rib cage to his hipbone, but it was no longer red and angry. It had faded to a mere seam in his skin. I almost sighed exasperatedly. Only a man like Tristan would tattoo his face to honor an animal that had nearly mauled him to death. I could understand it though. For some reason, it had meant something to him. I could almost picture him looking the bear in the eyes, daring it to attack him. I shifted myself and kissed the strange man. He grabbed my arm once again and threw it around his shoulders before kissing back.

* * *

Another three months had passed when Arthur suddenly slipped into my room. I was up in an instant.

"Galina gave birth." He said. I was relieved to notice no sorrow in his features.

"She wasn't pregnant for eight months." I said trying to control my panic. I had planned on asking Arthur to visit her in her ninth month to be there for the birth. I grimaced thinking of her giving birth with out me there to hold her hand. All alone…

"It was a hard birth, but she'll live." He said seeing my face.

"And the child?"

"Healthy as well. A boy." He said and I saw a bit of pride flit across his face. I smiled as well. A healthy child. My oldest companion was a mother. Lancelot was now the father of a healthy boy child. I looked at Arthur suddenly with a question on my face. He sighed.

"It is her decision." He said. "She says she's not coming back Isolde."

"She can't hide forever." I said firmly. It would be even harder coming back. Lancelot had long abandoned his love for her. He was taking just as many women to his bed as he had before he had taken Galina as his lover.

"I want you to go fetch her." He said quietly. "Not now though, give her time. In two months you can go south."

I nodded. I had never been without Galina for this long before. I hadn't realized how much I missed her.

* * *

Yeah I know I'm awful at skipping random large parts of time but I have such a short attention span. I get bored with the same part of a story! REVIEW

REVIEW

REVIEW


	11. Community Bath

I've started a new story so my updates might not be as frequent… In this chapter I decided to use a scene from my old story…Oh how I love this scene…Hope you enjoy!

_**Lioness1**- Yes mam!_

_**Katemary77**- I'm glad you think so! I was hoping to keep it realistic._

_**TwistofShadows**- Wow! Haha Thanks! Feel free to ramble like that anytime! Awesome ego boost!_

_**KnightoftheRoundTable**- Yeah that's probably the closest thing I've come to a self insertion. Cause that's how I would want it to be!_

_**Sugar-skyline**- Yay! Someone likes Isolde's character!

* * *

_

The day before I was to leave for Shallot where Galina was living, I made my way to my room after sparring with Galahad. Winter had just ended but it was still freezing outside, and I longed for a hot bath. I had a large tub brought to my room and I filled it with hot, steaming water. The knights bathed only when they had to, I trait I found disgusting. Then again, any woman who looked at Gawain and desired to sleep with him probably already knew he was dirty. Galahad, Arthur, and Lancelot however had impeccable hygiene. I followed in their footsteps and bathed regularly. My lover, however, I had to coax into bathing. Occasionally I had to outright refuse to touch him. Stupid man…

I smiled happily as I lowered myself into the wonderfully hot tub. Soap was all I required. Let the fine Roman ladies have herbs and oils in their baths, hot water was enough for me. For some reason I began thinking of the woad who I had seen several times in battle. The damned woad who had _kissed_ me. Why on earth had a woad kissed me?

"Must have fallen out of a tree one to many times…" I said to myself sleepily as I yawned. I turned my head towards the warmth radiating from the fire and soon I was asleep.

* * *

I was on a small boat with the knights. Why were we on a boat? It was too small to be out in the middle of the sea. Why were we in the middle of the sea? Arthur and Dagonet were rowing ever so slowly and Bors was talking to a school of fish.

"Number four, where's your mother?" He was asking a fish. Lancelot was leaning over the boat talking to a girl. A girl? What was a girl doing out here? She didn't have legs I realized. She had a fish tail! I turned to Tristan to tell him, but he was busy making a net and he ignored me. Suddenly Gawain and Galahad grabbed me.

"Let's go for a swim Isolde!" Galahad said.

"No clothes remember!" Gawain added. Uh oh. I had no clothes on. Suddenly Gawain and Galahad were holding me underwater. I tried yelling at them, but it only came out as a gurgle. There was water in my nose and mouth. I was drowning! If I survived, I was going to sit on them I promised myself.

* * *

I opened my eyes and sat up as fast as I could, spraying water everywhere. I had fallen asleep in my bath! As I finished retching water up, my door flew open.

"Isolde! What's wr-" Galahad said as he ran into the room with no tunic on. His eyes widened as he stopped in front of me and realized I was in a tub, naked. Gawain rushed in and slipped on the water I had spilled. He was propelled into Galahad, who flew into the tub with me. I yelped as Galahad landed on me in the water. Gawain sprawled out next to the fire as Dagonet and Bors skidded to a halt inside.

"What in the name of all that is holy are you three doing?" Bors roared looking at us like we had gone mad. Dagonet shook his head and lowered the axe he had rushed in with. Lancelot walked in and smirked.

"If only Arthur could see this." He said as he sauntered over. Bors began to haul Galahad off of me when his eyes suddenly widened.

"You're on fire Gawain." He said plainly. We all looked at Gawain and saw that indeed, his tunic was smoldering around his backside.

"Put it out! Put it out!" He bellowed while trying to hit it. He succeeded only in fanning it until it burst in flames. Lancelot panicked and began to pat at the flames on Gawain's rear. Dagonet grabbed the linen I was going to use to dry off with and joined Lancelot in trying to smother the fire. We froze like children who had stolen sweets as we heard a snort. Tristan stood in the doorway and surveyed us. I thought our scout was about to start wheezing. We must have been a sight. Bors was leaning over and grabbing a half naked Galahad who was in a tub with a completely naked me, and Dagonet and Lancelot were taking turns hitting Gawain's backside.

"Enjoying Gawain's ass?" Tristan asked Lancelot with a superior look. Lancelot turned several shades of red, but was saved from having to answer by Gawain's launching himself into the tub. There was a sizzle as the fire was put out and Gawain sighed.

"It would have been a tragedy if my ass had been burnt off. Women would be weeping for days." Gawain said as a bit of steam drifted around the tub. Bors' eyebrows returned to their normal place and he grabbed a hold of Gawain and Galahad. The sopping wet men looked back in the tub at me. So did Bors, Tristan, Lancelot and Dagonet.

"Don't just stand there and drip!" I snapped at Gawain and Galahad. They yanked me out of the tub and I stood in front of everyone. My eyes flew to the piece of cloth that Dagonet had used to pat Gawain's ass with. It was sooty and burnt. I swore just as Lancelot looked up.

"Arthur!" He said in a rather high pitch voice. We looked at Arthur.

"Do I want to know?" He asked from the doorway. Tristan was the first to recover and he pulled me against him to keep me from being exposed to everyone. My backside was still on display however, so he grabbed a tunic off the bed and held it over my butt. I wondered if he realized how odd it looked now. I was pressed quite intimately against him, and his hands were on my rear.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Galahad mumbled. Arthur quickly pulled off his crimson cloak and handed it to Tristan. Tristan wrapped it around my shoulders and pulled me back to him. Dagonet coughed quietly.

"Enjoying Isolde's body?" Lancelot asked Tristan with a mocking smile.

"You can let her go now." Gawain growled. Tristan's face remained stoic, but he stepped back immediately.

"All in favor of letting her get dressed?" Arthur asked trying to herd everyone out of the room.

"Aye." Dagonet said and dragged Bors out. Lancelot, Galahad, and Gawain still stood in front of Tristan and me. They were staring at the cloak as if they were trying to see through it.

"Ahem."

"Oh yes…I'm going..I'm…" Lancelot said.

"Yes…we were just leaving…" Galahad said disjointedly.

"Well I'm staying." Gawain said plainly. Tristan gave them all warning looks. "Or not."

The four of them made for the door all at once. Galahad lingered a moment but Arthur snatched him out. He gave me an apologetic look and shut the door. Dear gods…

* * *

That night I wore my burgundy dress to the yard where we spent our evenings and I sat next to Tristan and Dagonet. They were all giving me smug looks.

"Well it's not like I actually want to see any of _you_ naked…" I said haughtily.

"Don't lie to yourself." Lancelot said. Gawain winked at me.

"You'll make your husband a very happy man." Bors said paternally. I snorted.

"There is not one man you would ever marry?" Dagonet asked skeptically. I looked around at the faces around me. They all puffed out their chests as I examined them as one would examine a horse or a cow. My eyes lingered on Tristan and I looked him in the eyes. Could I ever settle down with the dark haired scout? I imagined us back in Sarmatia with my tribe, married and with our own tent. Children? Making meals and clothes?

"No." I said honestly. His face was unreadable. "Never."

Dagonet shook his head.

"What a waste…" Galahad mumbled.

"Some women aren't fit for marriage." Tristan said shrugging. The others didn't catch on to his subtle insult, but I did. I gave him a withering look.

"_Fit?"_ I mouthed at him. He ignored me and tipped his drink back. He filled up his cup again and swirled the contents. Fit? What was that supposed to mean? Like…Like I wasn't _worthy_ to be some man's wife? Me? Just because I didn't _want_ to be a wife, didn't mean I would have made a terrible one. And who was _Tristan_ to be judging other people in matters such as marriage? I scoffed at him inwardly. Our relationship, if it could even be called that, was probably the closest thing he had ever had to romance! It was the same for me but still. I was fuming at him. I hid it well I knew. I could be as distant as he could. I pushed all thoughts of Tristan away from my mind and focused on enjoying the night with the men.

"Galahad don't be such a girl-" I laughed at him.

"I'm not a girl-Wait you're a girl! You can't call-"

"Yes she can! You _do_ act like a-" Lancelot said while pulling a woman into his lap. Galahad threw a cup at him before he could finish. Bors was cackling hysterically.

"Wha-What are we talking about?" Gawain gasped once he had stopped laughing. Galadad looked puzzled for a moment while Bors continued to laugh excessively. Dagonet shrugged.

"I have no bloody idea…" I said and snatched Tristan's cup from him while elbowing him. He grunted and elbowed me back. I lifted my leg and stomped on his foot. He did the same and then pinched my leg under the table. I bit my lip to keep from squealing. I pretended to stretch my arms and I snatched one of his braids. He winced and pulled one of my braids.

"Let go!" I hissed.

"You grabbed mine first." He said in a distinctly unfriendly voice. I tugged harder.

"Owowwoww!" He returned the favored and I let out a small howl. I tried to yank my head away. I was aware that the rest of the knights were watching us amusedly. I grabbed another braid and tugged them both at the same time.

"Isolde-" He almost yelled as we both fell back drunkenly. We were on the ground tugging hair like children. I let go abruptly. He stood up and stalked off angrily. I made a note not to walk outside after dark for the next few days. I brushed myself off and sat back down. I stared them down, daring them to say something. A few minutes of awkward silence passed and we were drinking and laughing again.

* * *

I laid on my bed that night feeling strange. My bed felt cold and empty. I wondered if it was the end of mine and Tristan's usually emotionless liaison. Arthur and I had decided not to tell the knights I was leaving. He would tell them I had gone to see Galina in the morning. I turned over on to my stomach. I stared at the dying embers of the fire. Why was he angry? Tristan was my dear friend and companion. He understood things about me that the others did not. And as much as I felt that I knew him, sometimes he was a complete mystery to me. Sleep eluded me. I stood up and groaned. In a matter of minutes my things were packed in a satchel which I threw over my shoulder. I made my way to the stables.

"Ahh it's the pagan girl who fights…" A drunk Roman slurred. Most of the soldiers looked up to Arthur and his knights, but the occasional pain in the ass was ready to stir up trouble. The man grabbed me roughly. Who in the name of Kolaksay did he think he was? His breath was rank and I nearly gagged. I kneed him in the groin and he dropped like a stone. I hurriedly saddled my horse and began my journey to the south.

* * *

The trip was exactly what I needed. I was going to see Galina and her new baby. I would have my friend back. It felt wonderful to be alone out in the green wilderness. I was responsible for myself alone and I could do whatever I wanted. I could organize my thoughts and relax. It was _wonderful_. For a week I traveled like this. When I finally reached the slightly warmer south, I rode into the gates of the castle feeling calmer than I had in months.

"Ah you must be Isolde. Arthur told us you were coming!" A man in a fine green tunic said. "I am Bernard, Arthur's kin."

I nodded and offered him a smile.

"Galina is in her chambers with the child. Come, I'll show you to your room." He said and began leading me through his halls to a tower. We climbed up a flight of stairs until we reached a wooden door. He let us into the room. It was comfortable, if small. I threw my things onto the bed and turned back to him expectantly. He led me up another flight of stairs to another door. He opened the door and I walked briskly into the bright room. I saw a familiar head of dark gold.

"Hello Galina." I said quietly. She whipped around from where she was kneeling on the floor and smiled brilliantly at me. My breath caught in my throat. She was more beautiful than ever. Pregnancy had made her slightly plumper so she was not as bony as before. She still looked as though a breeze could blow her away though. She was deathly pale, but motherhood had put a rosy glow in her cheeks.

"Isolde!" She whispered and danced over to me. She embraced me and I saw that she had dark circles under her eyes. I wondered how one could look so healthy and sickly at the same time. "Look!" She said and dragged me over to where she had been kneeling.

"What do you call him?" I asked in awe. He couldn't have been four months old, yet he already had a head full of dark gold curls. He giggled and reached out with a tiny hand. I knelt by him and gave him a finger to grasp. He gurgled happily and I couldn't help but smile.

"Geraint." She said watching him lovingly. I picked him up and surprised myself by nuzzling him with my nose. He cackled and touched my face. He had a wonderful smell and laugh. I realized I was getting emotional and quickly handed him to his mother.

"You have to come back." I said sternly. She shook her head. "You have a duty."

"My son needs me." She said weakly.

"Bring him to the wall."

She looked at me with a panicked expression.

"They would all know whose son he was! You know they would!" She said passionately.

"Galina, I know it's hard, but you have to tell him! He should know he has a son!" I said quietly. "It must be done."

She took a sob ridden breath.

"How is he?" I hesitated.

"Fine. Same as always." I put emphasis on the last few words to let her know that indeed, he was the same as always. In everyway.

"Does he ever speak of me?" I didn't answer.

"Galina, he loves you. Perhaps not in the way you would wish, but-"

"You think I don't know that?" She said harshly and then looked remorseful. "I'm sorry."

I nodded. I couldn't imagine what thoughts swirled in her head.

"Just… Just give me a few days." She begged softly.

"Of course." I said understandingly. "We've all missed you Galina."

"I know. I've missed you more than I can say. How's Galahad? And Bors? Any more bastards?" She asked and I laughed.

"They're all fine." I said and suddenly Geraint began to wail. I gave him and alarmed look.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked. It had been years since I had been around a baby. My little brother was born while I was still very young, so I had not paid much attention to baby needs.

"Not 'it'! He!" She said slapping my arm. "He's hungry. It's time to feed him."

However ignorant I was in the matter of children, I knew how infants were fed. I felt nauseated.

"I'll go unpack." I said stiffly and walked quickly out of the door. Her laugh followed me down the stairs to my room.

* * *

The next two weeks were spent lazing around the castle. Bernard and his wife were kind and attentive to Galina's needs. They treated her like their own daughter and I knew Galina had come to care for them. It was much warmer in the south and spring was already on its way. We spent our days in a nearby meadow. We laid in the soft grass with Geraint in between us. He recognized Galina as his mother, but he seemed to be fascinated by me. He laid on his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows and just smiled at me.

"Oh he is most certainly Lancelot's son." I said as the babe laid a sloppy kiss on my nose. I wiped the slobber off with the edge of my tunic. Eck.

"I'm ready." She said and I turned my head to look at her.

"Tomorrow then?" I asked and she shook her head miserably. I didn't know if I would ever have the strength to do what she was going to do. I cringed inwardly as she gave a hacking cough. I had hoped her sickness had passed, but it had not. She licked away the speck of blood on her lip and stood up. I watched her walk a distance away and stared at the endless fields of green and gold.

"You're going to meet your papa." I said to Geraint. He cooed happily at me and I tweaked his small perfect nose.

* * *

Ok! I'm quite fond of my old bath scene soI had to recycle it!We are very near the movie time! Get ready! REVIEWWWWW 


	12. Geraint

TwistofShadows- Yeah, she lost her maternal instincts somewhere along the way, but don't worry, she'll find them somehow. Yeah Lance isn't going to be very happy.

Lioness1- "stupid funny brilliant enjoyable story"? hahah I like that!

Babak- Tristan is…Tristan is semiconscious that he feels slightly different about the situation than he originally did. Plus he was insulted.

Lady of the Wood- Yeah I got really bored with the sequel so I put it on hold and through a long complicated screw up, it all got deleted. So I decided to make a new story! Ta da! I'm glad you liked the old one and I apologize for it's …erm...early death.

KnightoftheRoundTable-Hahaha yeah that was my bath scene from A Knight's Tale. I love that scene! I always crack up while I type it and I end up making typos!

EVERYONE ELSE! I am sooo glad I made yall laugh!

Just in case I didn't clarify(I feel like I didn't…that was probably my sloppiest chapter for obvious reasons…) Tristan and Isolde's little hair-pulling spat was a little more…brutal than I made it sound. And Tristan was completely trashed so I'm hoping it wasn't OOC…Cause I would have to throw myself off a bridge if I did that…

On with it…

* * *

The trip back to the wall was agonizingly slow. Although I would admit that it was rather difficult to travel while holding an infant, Galina was ridiculous. Most Sarmatian women threw the infants across their shoulders and were done with it. But no, Galina had to hold the little bundle of joy the entire time. And then when we camped, which was early so the baby could nap, she left me with Geraint while she hunted for hares and birds.

"It's been so long since I've hunted." She explained on the fourth day. "And I need to practice since I'm going back to serve Arthur again. I want to be able to hit something when I shoot."

That convinced me, so for several hours I was in charge of the infant.

"Be still." I commanded Geraint as he rolled over and over and over. He propped himself up on his elbows and gave me a wet, slobbery chirp. Babies, I had decided, were the most insolent, vulgar creatures in all the land. Of course, Geraint was quite charming at times. The Lancelot in him allowed him to give me a wide-eyed look of innocence while he had just finished screaming like a lunatic. Why in the name of the gods did they cry so much?

"Uhhdamawah."

"What? Um diddy what?"

"Ygdaeuh."

"Can't you just suck on your thumb or something till your mother returns?"

"Euhhnnu."

"Fine." I mumbled and picked the child up. He placed both his small hands on my cheeks and cooed. He _was_ rather endearing. I laid on my back and let him lay on my torso. I looked up at the sky through the trees we had taken shelter in. Geraint stared at me, and I stared at the sky.

"Ahyehah." I lifted my head and looked at my charge. He had managed to dribble a large amount of slobber onto my tunic.

"Ew. Keep that to yourself." I ordered. He bobbed his head happily. Well as long as he wasn't wailing…

Geraint propped himself up on his elbows and twisted around slightly. He made what I imagined was a fascinated sound as he discovered the hilt of my sword. His small hands couldn't even close over the handle but the still tugged at it.

"Going to be a warrior eh?" I asked the baby. Geraint ignored me and kept trying to tug on the blade. He let out a whine that quickly escalated to a wail when he couldn't budge the sword.

"No don't cry! Don't cry!" I said panicking. I picked him up and stood up. "Hey now…How about that?"

I twirled while I held him and he laughed. I held him close to my face and he put his tiny wet mouth on my nose. I suppose that was his mark of approval for he soon went back to cackling. Perhaps babies were not so bad.

* * *

"I'm telling the men." Galina said as she came back into camp with two hares. I was once again on the ground with Geraint on my chest. He was sucking his thumb and sleeping. He was the most adorable thing in Britain I had concluded.

"Mm." I mumbled and soon after my stomach gave a tremendous rumble. Galina immediately set out to skin and cook the animals. I laid Geraint on the ground gently and quietly slipped out of our camp. I began walking through the forests. We were too far south to have to worry about woads, but there were other enemies out there. I thought of the Saxons and I felt anger seep into my veins. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Branwain. I dreaded the day I returned to Sarmatia and told my uncle and aunt that I had failed to keep their daughter from that fate. None of the others understood my logic. They said it wasn't my fault, and perhaps it wasn't, but it was my fault that I didn't save her. I was supposed to protect them. It had never been said, but I was different than Branwain and Galina. I was a different kind of person, and I had always been the stronger. I should have been there to help her and Lionel. I should have realized what the silent village meant. Why else would a village have been so quiet? I remembered everything about that day. The grey sky and the overly green grass. The tense forest. I remembered the greenness of the hut roofs that had recently been thatched. The way my boots sank a little into the wet earth. I remembered Branwain's eyes… Her eyes would follow me to my death. I remembered being conscious of every drop of rain that hit my skin. I gently pulled myself away from my morbid thoughts. I could not change the past. But what of the future? I had never truly given any thought to whether I would make it back to Sarmatia. I thought of the endless plains and borderless skies. I knew where I came from; Sarmatia would always be in my heart. But what life awaited me there? Would I even survive? I was only halfway done with my servitude to Rome, and in a few short weeks I would have no Galahad and Gawain to watch my back. It would only be Arthur, Galina and I. Arthur of course would be in Rome most of the time. He would never completely abandon two of his knights, but he couldn't pass up his chance to go to Rome.

Did I fear death? I did not want death, but fear of death would never keep me from anything. An honorable death in battle would be my first choice of death, but I wondered how awful it would be to live to boring old age and die in my bed. Let come what may I decided. I emptied my head of all thoughts and let my mind roam free. The forest around me was a pulsing emerald of life. This island, this untamed island, was alive. I would miss it, should I choose to leave. I looked up at the sky as it began to rain and smiled. I stood there for a moment before walking back to camp.

* * *

Several days later Galina and I were on a hill over looking the fortress. She was paler than I had ever seen her. She even had a slight green tint to her face.

"Isolde…" She said suddenly, but there was no need to finish. I looked her in the eyes, willing her to be strong. She straightened her back and nudged her horse forward. Kolaksay and I followed. Geraint was slung across his mother's back sleeping. The steady jostling of the horse had lulled him to sleep and for that I was grateful. I had been gone for a little over a month, and I missed my friends. I would be happy to see them.

We rode into the walls and into the courtyard where Jols looked quite surprised to see us.

"Hello Jols." Galina said in a small voice. He smiled at her.

"Galina." He said. Arthur and Lancelot walked into the courtyard and their talking stopped abruptly. Galina's spine was as stiff as iron and I was strangely proud of her. It took courage to face him.

"Lancelot." She breathed. I could see her affection for him remained. He stared at her shocked.

"Galina." He said and his voice was torn with conflicting emotions. His lover had left him abruptly for half a year for what he assumed was no reason. I was slightly apprehensive about what his reaction would be when he found that he had a son.

"Isolde! Galina!" Galahad cried as the rest of the knights entered the yard. Gawain's kind face smiled broadly. Tristan's face remained neutral while Dagonet smiled contentedly. He gave his silent friend a slightly exasperated look when he saw his lack of expression. Tristan gave no indication that he noticed the look directed at him. Bors gave a raucous cry and slapped Galina's leg. Suddenly the sound of the nearby Roman soldiers, squabbling children, and the knights was pierced by an aggravated wail. Geraint was awake. The knights looked puzzled.

"Wos' that?" Bors said looking around at Galina's back. She slowly reached back and took Geraint in her arms. Suddenly there was silence and a distinct lack of smiles.

"Who-hm." Lancelot was having trouble getting the words out. He looked away and I saw the tick in his well-carved jaw. "Is it mine?"

"Yes." She said softly and I could see the blush spreading through her body. She was suddenly ashamed that she had run away without telling him she was going to have his child. He wanted to slap her I could tell. I probably would have too if I was in his position. He made sure he didn't look at her face as he stepped forward and reached hesitantly out to take Geraint.

"What's his name?" Lancelot asked as he looked at his son. Geraint calmed down immediately and allowed himself to be examined. He gurgled at his father and I saw Lancelot soften.

"Geraint." I said when I saw Galina was incapable of speaking. Her eyes were watering as she watched the man she loved so fervently hold their son.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked her angrily. She winced and I could see her defense crumble.

"Lancelot." Arthur said in a warning. "Why don't you and Galina go somewhere private?"

Lancelot glared at Arthur. He handed his child to Galahad and waited impatiently for Galina to get off her horse. When she did, he all but dragged her to his room.

We stood uncomfortably until Dagonet broke the silence.

"Let's go." He said and began walking to the yard where we would most definitely get drunk. Galahad stared at the baby uneasily as he walked while holding Geraint as far away as possible.

"He's not contagious." I drawled as Gawain laid an arm around me. I grinned at him and he kissed me full on the mouth.

"Good to have you back." He said as we sat down. I took Geraint from Galahad while giving him an annoyed look. Even _I_ knew how to hold a baby.

"Here we are. Mm hungry? You'll have to wait until mama gets back." I said rubbing my nose against his. I pitied the poor child. Both of his parents would be loving to him but I could tell they were not going to be a happy couple.

"Gone soft have you? That's how it starts." Bors said as one learned man said to a younger person. "One moment you're going about your own business and then you suddenly have _feelings_ for the little bastards…Next thing you know they've got you wrapped around their little fingers."

I realized I had been cooing at the baby and I cleared my throat, trying to keep what little dignity I had left intact. Tristan was giving me an unreadable look as usual and I returned it. I looked past the ragged hair and into his dark eyes. He gave a barely perceptible nod and I knew it was alright again. We were still comrades. I looked away before I could see anything else in his eyes. Something that may have hurt me or frightened me.

"Isolde." Arthur called. I looked over to where he stood and I handed Geraint to Tristan as an afterthought.

"How are they?" I asked Arthur as I stood next to him.

"They're having it out. He's furious." He said in a low voice.

"Arthur-"

"I know she still loves him. Whether he loves her or not, I cannot say." He said.

I knew the answer. Arthur did too whether he would admit it or not. We sat down with the others. Some of the splendor of being back with my companions had disappeared. I could see Arthur's heart weighed heavy too.

"Tristan, you never cease to amaze me." Gawain said as he looked at the scout. I glanced at him and nearly laughed out loud. He had managed to quiet Geraint who was nestled comfortably against the knight's thick tunic. The two stared at each other without making a sound. I felt strange watching them. It was a new side of Tristan that I had never seen before. After a while he handed the infant over to Gawain who jostled the baby until he laughed. The night passed on in a blur of drunken celebration at Galina and my return. I watched as Tristan slipped away quietly back to his room. I stayed for a while longer until I was too torn between excitement and dread to function properly. I wanted to know what was between Tristan and I. Were we only friends or were we lovers? I cherished our friendship. It was that of two kindred spirits and I told myself I would be content with that, but inwardly I knew that I would like to share his bed also.

* * *

I made my way to his room and quietly slipped in. The room was dark and I figured he was asleep. I crept over to his bed and looked down at him. He opened his eyes and looked at me. He grabbed my arms roughly and pulled me to him. I sat in his lap and stared at him for a moment. I traced his mouth and touched his beard where I knew the grey spots to be.

"Tristan." I said while still touching his face. He leaned forward to kiss me but I turned my face away. Unfazed, he kissed my jaw and neck. I wove my hand through the hair on the back of his head and pulled his head back until his face was turned towards the ceiling. He looked at me from the angle and waited. "What do you want from me?"

"Everything." He said with his accented voice. My heart beat faster.

"You don't ask much do you?" I said huskily. My hand still held his head away from me, so he pulled me to him and kissed me. I let his head go and kissed back fervently. He began to slide his hand along my thigh while pulling up my dress and I gladly helped him out of his tunic.

* * *

Short chapter I know! I'm damn tired though! REVIEW! 


	13. Surprises

**Some unknown girl**- Yay! I'm glad.

**Babak**-Perhaps…Perhaps not. That may or may not be what he meant. Or maybe it is and he just doesn't realize. Who knows?

**TwistofShadows**- Top priority indeed!

**:op DUDE**- Muahaha!

* * *

Galahad and I sat on the grass outside the wall. His head lay in my lap as we stared at the gray sky. We had sparred together for most of the day and I was starving.

"Arthur's given us our final orders." He said suddenly. I couldn't bear to look at him.

"_Your_ final order." I said casually, masking the pain I truly felt. "Not mine."

"We're to escort a Bishop to the wall. He has our papers." He said softly. I kept my eyes fixed on the clouds.

"You'll finally get to go home." I said and this time my voice had some emotion in it. It was not sadness; it was happiness for I knew how badly Galahad awaited freedom. Fifteen years of service to Rome had only sharpened his hatred for the unfairness of it. He longed to go back to a place where he was free, but I often wondered if it would be all he hoped. I knew he loved our homeland, but I was afraid that he was going to be disappointed. Galahad, in his own mind, had established Sarmatia as some heavenly place, free of Romans. Galahad was in love with the idea of Sarmatia, not the reality of it. Galahad had been young when he was taken. His memories were that of a happy childhood. No wonder he longed to go back.

"Yes. Freedom, Isolde. I've never wanted it more." He said dreamily. I brushed away a boyish curl from his forehead and he looked at me.

"I'll miss you Isolde. They never should have taken you, but I am honored to have fought with you." He said earnestly. I smiled and looked back at the sky.

"We'll see each other again. I promise."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Bravery comes easily to me in battle, but it's different for you. I've seen the way you fight. You, Tristan, Lancelot and Dagonet… You fight as if you don't care if you live or die." He said somberly.

"I don't invite death." I said lightly. I didn't. But I didn't run away from it.

"Well, try a little harder to survive. For me. And for Arthur and Gawain and the rest."

"Fine." I said in mock aggravation. "It's dark and I'm hungry."

"Of course my lady." He said with a chuckle and we stood up.

* * *

Lancelot had forgiven Galina. I would never ask her what words had been spoken between them, but he seemed to be less angry. He avoided talking to her, but when he did, it was slightly stiff. Galina however could only stare at him with longing. I wondered what it must be like to love someone so much that you pine away for them. I prayed I never felt that way.

I sat at a table with Gawain, Galahad, Dagonet and Lancelot while Tristan leaned against a wall in the shadows. Galina had chosen to stay with Geraint in her room for the night and Arthur was locked in his chambers working on Roman business.

"Where's Bors?" Lancelot asked looking around.

"Off with his woman!" Galahad said appreciatively. Gawain gave a very male cheer and raised his drink.

"Vanora will kill him if she gets with child again." Lancelot muttered. Dagonet smiled and shook his head.

"No, she could prevent pregnancy if she wished." He said. Galahad looked thoughtful.

"Really?" Gawain asked.

"Herbs." I shrugged, taking a swig of my wine.

"That explains a lot." Gawain said looking equally as thoughtful as Galahad. I smiled at their naivety. How else would they have explained their lack of bastards?

"Wait, how do you know?" Lancelot asked looking at me pointedly.

"Is this some knowledge all women are born with?" Galahad asked while Gawain gave me a suggestive look. Dagonet only smiled and looked at Tristan. How did he know?

"Yes. We have secret rituals in which we are taught the wiles of women." I said in a monotone voice. Lancelot shuddered while Galahad quickly went back to drinking.

"Oh." Gawain said simply. Talk resumed after a moment of silence and soon Lancelot and Gawain had gained an audience with a vulgar song about a priest. I looked at Tristan whose eyes invited me to join him. I walked over to him and surveyed the knights. In four days time, we would escort the Roman Bishop to the wall. I would lose everyone but Galina. I had thought of losing everyone but Tristan.

"Will you go back to your tribe?" I asked him. I knew his immediate family to be dead, but what of the other members of this tribe?

"Don't know." He said and tipped his drink back. He carefully sat the cup down on the edge of the table and turned towards me. My breathe caught in my throat as he calmly pinned me to the wall and kissed me with his reserved confidence. I didn't hesitate to encourage him, but I was surprised that he was pinning me to a wall in front of everyone in the yard including our fellow knights. Before he had taken me as his lover he had taken women to his bed often, but a meaningful look or a lazy arm around the waist was the most attraction he ever showed. I supposed he was less considerate of whether or not the others of our association after last night. There was no one word to describe our relationship. We were not _more_ than friends or comrades, but we were closer. There was no romance between us, but it was not so casual as it had been when we first became lovers. A strange tenderness had slipped into our relationship. My thoughts were interrupted as I heard someone spray their drink everywhere.

"Isolde?" Galahad spewed as he looked at us. I examined our position; my body was pressed between the wall and Tristan who presently nuzzling my neck. This was going to be interesting,

"Would you care to step away from her, Tristan?" Gawain said menacingly. I nearly snorted at his over protectiveness.

"Gawain, I can handle myself thank you." I said even though I disengaged myself from the scout.

"You? Him?" Galahad asked looking as though he was going to need a large drink soon.

"Yes." Tristan said as we sat down next to each other. His arm was around my waist and he pulled me closer just to further aggravate Gawain.

"Tristan, I would hate for you to think of Isolde as some whore for a night's amusement." Gawain said with a pleasant smile. It was a threat and I was even more amused.

"Gawain, she knows what she's doing." Dagonet said absentmindedly.

"Oh?" Gawain said curiously.

"You'll get used to it. I have." He said assuredly. How long had Dag known?

"You speak as if this has been going on for a while." Lancelot said suspiciously.

"Nearly a year." Tristan said helpfully. He was enjoying it. Suddenly the knights had nothing else to say.

"So there's no need to play big brother." I drawled playfully to Gawain. He smiled good-naturedly. Lancelot and Galahad looked at each other and went back to talking. Several minutes passed and Tristan grew bored.

"This is going to take some getting used to." Galahad said uncomfortably as Tristan and I kissed. I was enjoying it far too much.

"I agree." Lancelot said. Dagonet stared pointedly in the other direction.

"Well Tristan, why don't you just start going at in the middle of the- Oh gods. Isolde." Bors said loudly as he walked over. More fun. Lancelot smiled broadly, glad that it was someone else's turn to be astonished.

"Do you love him?" Gawain asked me the next day as we patrolled a few miles of the wall. Galahad rode on my other side.

"As much as I love any of the men." I answered. Galahad looked troubled.

"You feel nothing for him?" He asked disbelievingly. "No part of you wants to find him again in a few years and settle down with him?"

"Perhaps it is my youth, but I have no desire to settle down with any man." I replied thoughtfully.

"Well in that case, how about a nice farewell-" Galahad started but I gave him a lofty look. "I'm not serious. Tristan would dismember me."

"You think so?" I snorted.

"Yes. He'd have a nice little holiday and hunt us down with his pretty bow and arrows like rabbits." Gawain said daintily.

"You make him sound like a jealous husband." I said defensively.

"I don't mean to." He assured me.

"So what of this Bishop that we are required to escort?" I asked suddenly.

"Germanius. Apparently Arthur knew him as a child. He was a friend of Uther's long ago. He's carrying out papers." Gawain answered.

"I see. Bloody Christian…" I muttered. Germanius had come to take my friends from me as far as I was concerned.

* * *

We rode southwest for hours. Green hills and foggy skies had no meaning to me anymore. Their last mission. The words kept turning over in my head. I kept picturing their faces and imagining my life without them. I couldn't. I barely talked the entire trip. Galina had stayed at the wall with Geraint for this last mission and I couldn't blame her. So far I had managed to bear and grin it, but when I had woken up that morning, something was different. I couldn't do it anymore. I told myself I wouldn't ruin their day for them, but I couldn't bring myself to join them in their playful banter. A small dark part of me hoped the woads and killed the bishop and destroyed the papers. A very selfish part of me indeed. The clouds had thinned by the time we paused on a hill overlooking a wooded area. We sat abreast of each other and looked at the bishop's train. It held a different meaning for all of us. Home. Loss. Freedom. Nothing.

"As promised," Gawain said "the Bishop's carriage."

"Our freedom Bors." Galahad said looking at the slightly older man. Bors smiled and turned to him.

"Mm I can almost taste it." He said closing his eyes in pleasure. He chuckled deeply as the rest of us smiled. I couldn't help it this time. Dagonet's grin was infectious.

"Your passage to Rome Arthur." Dagonet said. Arthur's twenty years of service to Rome were up also. He would visit us, no doubt, but rarely. Arthur embodied everything noble and foolish in the world. I would miss him dearly. Tristan's faint smile faded as he gazed at the tree line. There was a slight mist hanging throughout the branches as the trees swayed. Perhaps I shouldn't have wished so hard.

"Woads." He said clearly as an arrow thudded into one of the mounted officers of the Roman retinue. We spurred our horses forward in an instant.

We immediately went into dragon formation with Galahad and Tristan as the wings. Arthur gave a ferocious battle cry as he drew Excalibur, the sword of Uther. I myself made sure my machaira was ready to be drawn when I finished with my arrows.

We chased down the blue men like animals. The clang of steel and the cries of war already filled the air as I brought down a woad who had just killed a Roman soldier. I was in no real hurry to protect a _Roman_. It was the last battle I would ever fight with my companions. I would enjoy it as best I could. Four more well placed arrows and I decided to at least give the painted ones a chance to get near me before I killed them with my sword. After all, they did get dressed up for the occasion. Lancelot had already bounded off of his horse and begun slicing left and right with his twin blades. I admired his skill for a moment before riding past and decapitating a woad. Not to be outdone by a pretty boy, I slipped off Kolaksay and threw the machaira across my shoulders. These woads were wearing little armor, so the Greek blade would not be needed. I drew Pata and parried the blow of an oncoming woad. He struck at my leg but I was too quick. Before the axe reached my thigh I had slashed upwards from his belly to his neck. I ran at Kolaksay and dodged the sword of another woad. I grabbed my shield and in one motion I had spun around and left a deep cleft between the man's neck and shoulder. I threw myself at another woad and knocked the sword out of his hands. He had only a moment to grab for his dagger before I impaled him. I nearly swore at him when I realized he had managed to slice open my calf before dieing. I turned around to see a particularly fierce looking woad run at me. He fell with an arrow in his neck and I gave Tristan a gracious smile. I watched a woad tackle Gawain to the ground and I stood ready to come to his aid. My fierce friend needed no help after a few moments. Dagonet flew off his horse and nearly drowned two woads in the river before killing them. I ducked the swipe of an axe and tripped the blue man who wielded it. He had one fleeting glimpse at the sky before my shield severed his neck and lodged itself in the earth. I left it there for the moment and concentrated on simply engaged woads in swordplay. I was showered with bits of gore as Lancelot nearly severed off the head of a kneeling woad with his identical swords. I nodded appreciatively at him. It was nearly artful. I winced as Bors punched a man over and over again before finally slamming a knuckle blade into a man's head. I watched as Tristan stepped serenely off of his horse and swayed his sword around in an inviting manner. He masterfully knocked aside the swords of the only two woads who were foolish enough to rush him and neatly opened their torsos. I proudly turned away from my paramour and was met by a familiar face.

"_You_." I said flatly. The cheeky woad had the audacity to smirk at me. A fair-haired man came at my from behind and I sedately whipped around and slit his throat. He fell at the feet of the woad who had kissed me and I shrugged uncaringly. His smirk faded as he looked at the body of his fellow soldier. He launched himself at me and I quickly parried his blows. His face was harsh as he swung his sword where my head had been only moments before. My sword bit deep into his shoulder as his sword left the thinnest of cuts on my lip. I touched a finger to the scratch and it came away with blood. I the look I gave him was filled with the promise of death. I saw him look back at the forest and suddenly he took off. I restrained myself from giving chase and instead turned the edge of my blade onto the first unfortunate woad I saw. I looked up just in time to see Tristan engage an enemy. The ill-fated woad unwisely put himself in very close proximity with the scout and locked blades. Tristan artfully flicked his curved sword and imbedded it into the surprised woad. He withdrew his sword and began to walk past the woad. Almost as an afterthought, he let a swift sword stroke fall behind him and slash the woad's legs as he fell. I finished my last woad by cleaving the machaira into his skull just as Bors let out a roar.

"Rus!" He announced the land as if declaring the blatantly obvious. As if only the Rus Sarmatians could pose such a force. Gawain pointed a blade at a long haired man and nodded, marking him for death. The man never had a chance, even though Gawain displayed his back to him. Gawain caught him in the side with his blade before dealing a final blow to the back.

"Nice." I said solemnly as I yanked my shield from the corpse and bloodstained earth.

"Pick it up." I heard a deadly voice said. I turned to find Arthur with his sword at a kneeling woad's throat. I watched concernedly as the woad stared defiantly into Arthur's face. My mad commander said it again; this time in a whisper. The man picked up his axe fearfully as Arthur stared at the trees waiting for some sign. He suddenly lowered Excalibur and stepped away. I saw the woad let out a deep breath and I drew my sword again, waiting for him to make a wrong move. I gave him a taunting smile and he darted back into the forests.

"What a bloody mess." Bors said disgustedly as he pointed in the carriage. Arthur looked in to find a well dressed man with an arrow pinning his skull to the woodwork. I smiled happily. Perhaps the knights would be staying a little longer.

"That's not the bishop." Arthur said firmly. Damn it all to hell. Shrugging, I turned to Bors who was mocking a wimpy looking man who had hidden under the carriage the entire battle.

"What are they?" The man asked frightfully. I raised an eyebrow. Dear gods.

"Blue demons that eat Christians alive." Bors said casually and suddenly put a finger in his face. "Your not a Christan are you?"

The man could only blubber.

"Does this really work?" Bors asked the quivering man. He put his hands together in the Christian gesture and mumbled a mock prayer. He opened his eyes and waited. "Nothing. Maybe I'm not doing in right."

I smiled and patted him on the back. Our weapons were out in an instant as we looked at the surviving Romans.

"Stand down." A accented voice ordered. A Roman soldier backed his horse off warily.

"Arthur. Arthur Castus. Your father's image! I haven't seen you since childhood." The slick voice said.

"Bishop Germanus. Welcome to Britain." Arthur said pleasantly. "I see your military skills are still of use to you. Your device worked."

I glanced to the dead man who was being hauled out of the carriage. What in the name of every god in the land was a Christian Bishop doing in full Roman armor? Wasn't that against some sort of holy law or something?

"Ancient tricks for an ancient dog." He said modestly. Ancient trick? I had a term for it also. Cowardice. He chuckled and continued: "Ah. So these are the great Sarmatian knights we have heard so much of in Rome."

We bristled at the well oiled sarcasm in his voice. He dismounted and brushed off his armor of any offending dirt or gore.

"I thought the woads controlled the north of Hadrian's wall." He said looking around at the carnage.

"They do, but they occasionally venture south. Rome's anticipated withdrawal from Britain has only increased their daring." Arthur said as he and the Bishop walked abreast.

"Woads?" The pallid man asked.

"British rebels who hate Rome." Gawain said unceremoniously.

"_Men who want their country back_." Galahad added venomously to the Roman Bishop. He shrugged not caring much about a Sarmatian knight's opinion.

"Who leads them?" He asked.

"He's called Merlin. A dark magician, some say." Lancelot said with dark humor. I mounted Kolaksay and let a small smile cross my face. I looked over at Tristan who was currently licking blood off his hand.

"Some women wouldn't let a man kiss her after that." I said dryly without looking at him. He gave me a sideways look and continued.

"Tristan," Arthur ordered. "Ride ahead and make sure the road is clear."

Tristan nodded and rode off.

"Please do not worry Bishop; we will protect you." Arthur said assuredly

"I have no doubt, commander. No doubt…" The man said dismissively. He climbed into his carriage and shut the curtain, making it painfully obvious he did not want the company of his pathetic helper.

"Dozens don't worry me as much as thousands." He muttered just as he looked up to see his master leave him out of the carriage.

"Thousands?" Lancelot asked none too nicely. I looked at Galahad who frowned deeply. Could it be that the Saxons were an even bigger threat than I had thought?

* * *

We escorted the Bishop to Hadrian's wall with no further problems. As we neared the wall, Tristan rode up to us and walked his horse next to Dagonet's. We all paused on a hill over looking the Bishop's retinue.

"Well now that we're free men, I'm going to drink till I can't piss straight." Bors said in an official manner. I snorted.

"You do that every night." Gawain said.

"I never could piss straight. Too much of myself to handle. Down there." He said sincerely. Oh no… Not this again.

"Well it's a problem! No really, it is! It's a problem. It's like-" He said tragically.

"A baby's arm holding an apple." We finished for him. We laughed, but he didn't look embarrassed at all and we began to move again. I rode next to Galahad as he began his customary rant.

"I don't like him. The Roman." Galahad said mistrustfully. Pessimistic as always, he continued. "If he's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?"

I shook my head and smiled.

"Is this your happy face?" Gawain asked disbelievingly. We all had a nice laugh at the expense of Galahad, whom even smiled. "Galahad do you still not know the Romans? They won't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony."

"Yeah, why don't you just kill him, and then discharge yourself after?" Bors asked amusedly. Galahad made his best disdainful face and shook his hair away.

"I don't kill for pleasure. Unlike some." He said nobly as he directed a sideways look to me and the scout who had ridden next to me.

"Well you should try it someday; you might get a taste for it." Tristan said in an agreeable voice while quirking his lips.

"After all, a person needs some sort of recreation." I added persuasively. Gawain chuckled and I winked at Galahad.

"It's part of you." Bors said seriously. "It's in your blood."

"No no no." Galahad laughed assuredly. "No, as of tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory."

"Oh." Bors said sarcastically.

"Well I'm glad _you_ can dismiss it as easily." I said somewhat coolly. Galahad winced apologetically.

"I've often thought of what going home would mean after all this." Gawain said thoughtfully. "What will I do? It's different for Galahad. I have been in this life_ longer_ than the other. So much for home-It's not so clear in my memory."

I considered his words. I saw home, but no future.

"Well, speak for yourself. It's cold back there. Everyone I know is dead and buried." Bors said humorlessly. "Besides, I have, _I think_, a dozen children."

"Eleven." Gawain corrected and I shuddered.

"You listen, when the Romans leave, we'll have the run of this place. I'll be governing my own village." He said as we passed a shabby group of huts. "And Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass kisser. Won't you Dag?"

Dagonet looked away.

"And my my, what a sprawling city it will be." I said cynically eyeing our dismal surroundings. Bors gave me a playful look.

"First thing I will do," Gawain said decidedly. "Is find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed."

"Beautiful Sarmatian woman? Why do you think we left in the first place?" Bors said and made the sound of a cow.

"You're not much of a beauty yourself Bors." I said disdainfully.

"Well, what I meant was, all the beautiful ones such as yourself," He said motioning grandly towards me "Are already taken."

"Taken? Taken by whom exactly?" Arthur asked interestedly. Nooo-

"Tristan." Galahad said helpfully. Arthur nearly fell off his horse as he twisted around awkwardly.

"Come again?"

"Our Isolde and Tristan have had a nice romance going on for nearly a year." Gawain said knowing it would annoy me.

"Under our very noses." Bors said poking his own nose.

"Call it what you like." I said dryly.

"They're jealous. Bors is the only other one who can get a woman." Tristan said looking straight ahead.

"Am I your woman?" I asked, highly amused.

"Suppose so." He shrugged. Bors shook his head.

"What about you Lancelot? What are your plans for home?" He asked the handsome knight. I was hoping for a "raise my son."

"Well if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims, I expect I'll be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house. His wife will welcome the company." He said charmingly.

"I see. And what will I be doing?" Gawain asked edgily.

"Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me." Lancelot said as if it was obvious. My shoulders shook while Bors let out a frightening cackle.

"Is that before or after I hit you with my axe?" Gawain asked in mock interest. Bors laughed harder.

Tristan and I held back for a moment. Suddenly he looked up and whistled. His hawk came swooping down to his arm. His ever present frown remained as he petted her chest.

"Where you been eh? Where you been?" He asked her tenderly. She nipped as his finger and bobbed her head and piped at me. She seemed to always recognize my presence, but she always stayed with Tristan. She knew who she belonged to. I hung even farther back and stared at the backs of my friends. It couldn't be over. This couldn't be my last day with them. It couldn't be the last night I spent with Tristan. Something in me told me it wasn't time to say good bye.

* * *

Wow! I hope I made up for the last chapter's shortness! Review! Does anyone think my writing has gone down? I hope not but there's a nagging voice in the back of my head… 


	14. Something Amiss

Sorry its been a while!

* * *

We were trailed by children pretending to be knights as we rode into the fortress. I smiled a girl who was beating the brains out of a bigger boy.

"I'm Isolde! The fairest of all the knights! The bravest! The greatest! Die woad!" She said dramatically while waving her wooden sword in the air. With a grand sweep she brought it down on the poor boy's shoulder. He howled with pain and attempted to whack her with his own splintering blade.

"The valiant Lancelot will not be defeated by a mere _bandit_!" He said striking a handsome pose. I grinned madly.

"Look Lancelot! He's quite good at you…" I said. My girl kicked him in the shin and sat on him.

"Ha! No man can defeat me! Especially you Ulfius-" She snapped with a slight lisp. She couldn't have been older than five.

"Yes I can! You're not Isolde, you're just Kuina!" Ulfius said as he threw her off of him. She immediately had her play sword at his throat, ready for the kill.

"I win." I said happily to Lancelot.

"You know of course, that that is the only way you would ever beat me." He said smugly and rode off. The Bishop's carriage stopped in front of the main fortress hall and he stepped out. He looked at his surroundings with distaste. I hoped he was absolutely miserable. I hope it rained his entire stay. I hoped he contracted some strange, horrible illness. I hoped- My vicious daydreams were interrupted by Jols.

"Welcome back Arthur." He said.

"Jols." Arthur replied.

"Lancelot." He said nodding at the striking knight. He looked to me. "Isolde."

"Hello Jols." I said plainly. The squire nodded and took our horses after we dismounted.

"Bishop, please, my quarters have been made available to you." Arthur said generously. Although inwardly I respected Arthur's sense of honor, I wished he had made Germanius sleep in the stables.

"Ah yes. I must rest." The bishop said in what I suppose he thought was a weak voice. Pathetic. Without giving any thanks to Arthur he and his attendant walked in the hall.

I looked over to Bors at the sound of a sharp slap.

"Where have you been?" Vanora asked lividly. "I've been waiting for you!"

Bors looked pleased.

"Oh my little fire." He groaned. "Such passion…"

He kissed her roughly and she wrapped her arms around him. Galahad walked by and smiled amusedly while Tristan gave them a disturbed look. I smiled quietly. I eyed Tristan with suspicion. He was filthy, but in all likelihood he would wash his hands and face and be done with it. I was going to have to put my foot down.

* * *

"I took one a few days ago." He said darklyas he regarded me with aggravation. He edged away from the large tub.

"I'll go sleep in my own bed." I retorted. Weighing the dread of taking a bath and giving up his last night with me, Tristan began to undress. "It's only a little water…"

He ignored me and sat down in the tub. He splashed himself and began to stand up again.

"Wash." I commanded. He gave me a deadly look and began to scrub at his shoulders and arms with over exaggerated motions. I sighed and pushed his head underwater. He stayed perfectly still as I undid his braids and scrubbed at his head. I grabbed my dagger and tilted his head up. He relaxed as much as he could as I trimmed the hairs of his beard and neck. "There." I said as I finished. He rinsed off his face and looked at me. Our last few hours together.

"Isolde." He said and then was silent. I nodded understandingly. I leaned my head on the edge of the tub for a few minutes while we watched each other intently. He lifted a wet hand and touched a thumb to the small cut on the edge of my bottom lip. He looked at me with a question in his eyes.

"Why does that woad single me out?" I asked seriously. Tristan remained silent.

"Next time you see him, kill him." He said in his heavily accented voice after a moment. "Don't play with him. Kill him. He's dangerous."

"Really? The thought never crossed my mind as he was attempting to eviscerate me." I deadpanned. He didn't smile, but he leaned over and kissed me before standing up. I replaced the hot water as he dressed and quickly bathed myself. I wanted my hair to dry before Arthur called for us. When I finished, Tristan was waiting patiently for me to braid his hair.

"Get the longer pieces out of my face." Heordered as he settled in between my knees as I sat on the bed.

"Why don't you cut it?" I asked, not really paying attention. I knew he wouldn't and I was glad. I didn't want a well-groomed man. Just an occasionally clean one.

He knew I wasn't serious so he said nothing. He helped me braid my own brown locks before we laid side by side on his bed.

"What was your brother's name?" I asked suddenly. I wanted to know as much as I could about him before he left to go god knows where.

"Alessand." His voice said emotionlessly.

"Name your son after him." I said. "Honor him."

"I need a woman to do that."

"You'll find one." I yawned. He rolled over and wedged his arm under my head while he put his own against mine. I wove a hand through his hair and let it rest on his cheek. We would both use our last night to show affection to each other. We laid like that for over an hour until Gawain knocked on the door.

"Round table." He said and continued on his way. We untangled ourselves and trekked to the round table.

* * *

"Let us not forget that we are the fortunate ones." Arthur said somberly as he stood up. Our laughter died out and we stood up from our seats around the round table. Gawain and Galahad on either side of me raised their goblets. I followed suit. "Our brave friends will never be forgotten! To Gawain's brother!"

We nodded all, saddened. Gawain looked steadily at the table in front of him. I let my hand brush against his in comfort and he smiled.

"To Balin." Lancelot said tipping his glass.

"To Bedivere." Dagonet spoke.

"To Dinadan." Tristan said quietly.

"To Lionel." Galahad said fiercely.

"To Branwain." Galina said from her spot between Lancelot and Galahad.

"To freedom!" Bors said loudly. We raised our glasses even higher and echoed his words. We lowered our glasses and remained standing for a while. I looked at Galina. Geraint was not with her. She looked sickly again. Lancelot's words must have been harsher than I had previously thought. The deep purple circles under her eyes made her look haunted and there was something dreamy about her appearance…The seeds. She had been using seeds again. I made a note to myself to keep a watch on her. Talk resumed after a few moments.

* * *

"And then I said to him-" Bors said as we all laughed but was cut off by the sound of the Bishop entering.

"His Eminence, Bishop Gnaeus…" The aide faltered and looked confused by the round table. "Germanius…"

The Bishop walked in grandly while waving his hands as if to motion us not to grovel. Fat chance. He looked at the round table, peturbed. I saw the alarmed aide interrogate Jols while looking at the offending table. I did not rise to greet the Bishop and neither did Tristan or Galina. He could rot in hell with his pretty clothes. I had seen _ladies_ who did not dress so pompously.

"I was given to understand there would be more of you." He said heartlessly. I saw some of the others flinch. Galahad was gripping the table as if he was ready to pounce across the table and maul the Bishop.

"There were." Arthur said and I could tell he was aggravated. "We have been fighting here for fifteen years bishop."

"Ah of course." He said plastering a fake smile across his face. "Arthur and his knights have served with courage to maintain the honor of Rome's empire on this last outpost of our glory. Rome is most indebted. To you, noble knights, your final days as servants to the Empire."

I didn't take my eyes off the bishop as I was served a gold chalice. Something was not right.

"Day. Not days." Lancelot corrected him in a deadly voice as he glanced up from his cup.

Germanius waved the question away. The knights sat back down and watched him uneasily.

"The pope has taken a personal interest in you. He inquires after each of you, and is curious to know if your knights have converted toward our Savior, or-"

"They retain the religion of their forefathers. I've never questioned that." Arthur said before a holier-than-thou lecture started.

"Of course. They are pagans." He said and the word had an inferior ring to it.

"For our part, the church has deemed such beliefs innocent." He said magnanimously. He turned to Arthur. "But you, Arthur. Your path to God is through Pelagius? I saw his image in your room."

"He took my father's place for me." Arthur said coolly. I realized that there was a feud between them on the subject of Arthur's mentor. "His teachings on freewill and equality have been a great influence. I look forward to our reunion in Rome."

I looked sharply at the Bishop as he and his aide looked distinctly uncomfortable. Couldn't Arthur see something was amiss?

"Ah- Rome awaits your arrival with great anticipation. You are a hero. In Rome you will live out your days in honor." The Bishop said grandly. He turned to us slightly and said in an explaining voice: "And wealth!"

The way he had said it… As if the part of heroism and honor was lost on us. As if wealth, spoils, would have been the only part we could appreciate. Lancelot was getting that calm, deadly look on his face. The one that meant trouble.

"Alas." The bishop sighed. "Alas, we are all but players in an ever-changing world. Barbarians from every corner are almost at Rome's door."

I silently raised my glass to that. I saw Gawain smile out of the corner of my eye. The Bishop opened the wooden box and I saw my comrades nearly rise out of their seats, straining to look at the simple rolls of parchment that was their freedom.

"Because of this, Rome, and the Holy Father," We mustn't forget the _Holy Father._ "has decided to remove ourselves from indefensible outposts, such as Britain."

It was an outrage. I looked at Galina. They would just…_abandon_ this land that had taken Branwain from us. What would be in store for Galina, Geraint and I? Where would we be ordered to go? The knights were rising in anger.

"What will become of Britain is not our concern." Germanius said idly as he twiddled with the wooden box. "I supposed the Saxons will claim it soon."

"Saxons?" Arthur said with alarm.

"Yes. In the north, a massive Saxon incursion has begun." The bishop said.

"Saxons only claim what they kill." Lancelot said slowly.

"And they only kill everything." Gawain said revolted.

"So you'll just…leave the land the land to the woads? I risked my life for nothing?" Galahad said as his handsome face turned red. Always thinking of himself. The injustice of the situation was too much for him to bear. His blood boiled at the thought of being snatched away from his homeland to be thrown into bondage to the Roman empire, but this was too much. To have the Romans disregard the island as if they had not sent so many men to death on it…I felt Galahad's anger. But it would do no good to pounce on the Bishop, strangle him with his fancy robes and then skin him with his own teeth, which is what I imagined Galahad wanted to do at that moment. I prepared myself to restrain him if it came to it.

"Rome is going to discard the entire island? Will you just write off all the men you sentenced to their deaths on this damned island?" I asked quietly. My voice rang across the hall and the bishop looked distinctly uncomfortable. He plastered a pained smile on his face and continued as if we hadn't spoken.

"Gentlemen. Your discharge papers with safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire." He said gesturing towards the small rolls of parchment. Amazing how such small things can hold such…changes. The knights rose and stared hungrily at the papers. I myself could taste freedom. For the first time in years I could almost imagine what it must feel like to be able to feel freedom wind its way around every sinew in one's body. It was a bitter taste though, because the freedom was not mine to take. Galina looked away and I could see her fighting away tears. I forced myself to stand there and watch. "But first, I must have a word with your commander."

We waited expectantly for him to have his word.

"In private." He added as if we were unintelligent.

"We have no secrets here." Arthur said reminding the Bishop that he treated his knights as equals. The bishops expression fouled as he pursed his lips. The box clanged loudly as Germanius slammed it shut.

"Come. Let's leave Roman business to Romans." Lancelot said smoothly as he stood up and raised his glass slightly to the pair of Romans. Ever the one to take charge, he made it clear that we should leave. Bors continued the lean on the table threateningly and glare at the pompous holy man.

"Let it go Bors." Dagonet said slapping his friend on the shoulder. Tristan's attention went to his gilded chalice. He shrugged as he examined it and began walking out of the room with it. It would fetch a fine price. Galahad snatched his own cup and made sure he grabbed the large pitcher of fine wine before leaving. I took my own chalice in hand and made my way out of the room.

"Where's Geraint?" I asked Galina, trying to figure out what the Bishop was playing at. He was a fool. What man with any sense about him tantalized hardened killers with their freedom like that?

"Hm? Oh…In our room. Asleep." She said absentmindedly. I could tell she was worried. I reverted back to silence as we neared the bar. As far as our men were concerned, they were free as the babes they had been born as. Something was wrong. As much as I wanted to be with the men forever, I could not swell up enough selfishness to hope that the Bishop was not ready to give them their freedom.

* * *

Whew! Ok Sry for the lack of updates! 


	15. Drunk on Freedom

Wow! Really, Really sorry! I've been grounded… Bad grades…Yeah. Anyways updates will be back to normal pretty much.

Blue eyes at night- Hahahahaha that made me feel a lot better! That's the longest review I've ever had! And you were correct on like 3 or 4 of those theories…But shhhh don't tell!

Lioness1- Me too! Plus I'd be rich now!

Mondieu66- She's one of the knights, but Galina is different. She sets herself apart sometimes. She's an altogether sad yet sweet character.

Katemary77- Yeah I know! I'm trying to speed along to where I can make it interesting though!

* * *

As soon as we reached the bar, Gawain, Bors, Tristan, Lancelot, Galahad and Dagonet proceeded to intoxicate themselves as quickly as possible. They sat down, sighed for a few moments while savoring their new found freedom, and then promptly downed copious amounts of ale. I myself accepted a large pitcher from Vanora who gave me an understanding look. While I didn't mind her kindness, the last thing I wanted was to bring attention my sullenness so I said nothing. I quietly tipped my drink back and welcomed the burning sensation that surged down my throat.

I considered myself to be quite stoic. Bodily pain could be brushed aside mostly, and one could become immune to emotional pain to a certain extent. But when I could not push away pain, I found that I did not handle it well. I longed to have my friends with me forever. We all sat together for a while until we drifted to various places in the open yard. Bors and Dagonet made their way to the back where Vanora immediately shoved the newest addition to the family into the arms of Bors. Lancelot sauntered off to a table with a few Roman soldiers for a little of what he referred to as "friendly accumulation" which consisted of a combination of threats and large amounts of alcohol added to a bit of gambling. I sat next to Galina at a table with Galahad and Gawain. Jols and Tristan stood nearby. I raised an eyebrow as Gawain motioned a moonfaced girl over to sit in his lap.

"I thought you were smitten with the idea of your beautiful Sarmatian woman Gawain." I said amiably. He gave me a bear like grin and reached for his drink.

"Pig." Galina said with mock disgust. Her eyes wandered over to Lancelot again. I wondered what inner turmoil was ravaging her at that moment. She loved Lancelot with a love so great I could never understand it, and I had no doubt that bearing his child has only increased it. I thought of the smiling babe and a strange urge came over me. It was the oddest feeling… For a moment it had seemed that having a child was not the end of the world. That perhaps the added responsibilities would not kill me or take away my freedom. I had almost _desired _to have a baby of my own. I shivered at the strange feeling.

"Good gods." I said as I jerked back into reality. The gentle music in the background had shifted to a lively tune. Galina had stood up and was doing a jig. I watched smilingly as she lifted her dress hem up to her calves to free her feet. Her soft soled feet moved to and fro in a pattern. Gawain and Galahad were clapping their hands while Tristan and Jols looked on. Galina's face shone with merriment as danced and I wondered how Lancelot could not love her the way she loved him. I yelped as Galahad picked me up and tossed me out towards her. A few people were watching but we had not yet caused a scene. I picked up my own skirt and joined in. My frame was not as lithe and graceful as hers, but I liked to think I was no terrible sight. We laughed as we stopped dancing and she kissed my cheek fondly. My hair was flailing hopelessly out of its braids and I couldn't wipe the huge smile off my face. I laughed and fell against Tristan. I looked up happily at his face which sported an amused smile and kissed him. He draped the arm holding his drink around me and leaned over to kiss me deeper. I came away with the taste of wine on my lips. I was panting slightly from dancing and kissing as I turned around and let him pull me against his chest.

"Isolde…" Galina said confusedly and I winced. Everyone knew of mine and the scout's relationship but her. I knew she would be hurt that I did not let her in on that part of my life, but I had not known how to explain it to anyone. And it had been something that belonged to Tristan and I alone. I had not wanted to cheapen it by…I didn't really know why I hadn't shared it with anyone.

"We share a bed." Tristan said saving me. He said it as if it mattered little and merely tightened his hold around me. Galina gave me a look that promised more questions later, but continued on watching Lancelot.

"Hey, hey Gawain…" Galahad laughed drunkenly as he and Gawain started throwing knives at a target. "You remember that woman from the village where we had to kill that cow?"

Gawain wheezed laughingly in response. The moonfaced girl migrated over to Galahad's lap after he threw his blade and lovingly returned to his wine.

"And she-And she kept licking your ear all night?" Galahad said as he nearly pissed on himself.

Galahad cackled drunkenly and set his blade on his boot. He flung it upwards, caught it, and nailed it into the target and laughed even harder.

"She gave me fleas!" He laughed as his eyes streamed.

"You'd better hope they're fleas!" Galahad choked out. I sagged against Tristan as I laughed.

"Oh gods Gawain! I'm never kissing you again." I said catching my breath.

"We'll see. One day you're going to want real affection and you'll come running to brave handsome Gawain's bed. I may even marry you." He said self-assuredly. Tristan actually chuckled as if it was ridiculous. I looked back at him.

"What do you care? When I return to Sarmatia I may just make my way to Gawain's home." I said even as I played my fingers across the back of his neck. He loved it and I knew it nearly drove him mad. He hmphed and began cutting into an apple he had nicked from somewhere.

"See if you can best that!" Gawain challenged Galahad loudly. Galahad shook himself pompously and concentrated on the board for a moment. I snorted loudly at his pathetic attempt at looking serious and he glared at me. He threw the blade which landed relatively near Gawain's. Gawain blew a raspberry and allowed the pale girl to rub his shoulders. Tristan slid away and flung a knife at the board. I smiled as it thudded into Galahad's hilt. He made a pleased sound and took a bite of his apple.

"Tristan, how do you do that?" Gawain asked stunned. Tristan's face was somber as he pointed towards his blade.

"I aim for the middle." He straightened back up and looked quite pleased with himself.

"Drunk are we?" I asked him as he walked back over. He took another bite and stared at me levelly.

"Shut up!" I heard Bors roar. He shoved Vanora forward. "Vanora will sing."

She looked torn between clouting Bors and running away. There were numerous cries of 'Sing!' and she blushed charmingly. I shook my head and smiled.

"Sing about home!" Galahad pleaded. Sometimes I wondered how the man was like a lion on the battlefield, and then managed to turn into a sappy whelp when his armor was removed.

"Don't drop the baby!" Gawain threw in unnecessarily. Vanora stepped out into the open space and fixed her eyes on number eleven. She smiled lovingly at him and opened her mouth to sing.

_Land of bear and land of eagle  
Land that gave us birth and blessing  
Land that pulled us ever homewards  
We will go home across the mountains _

We will go home  
We will go home  
We will go home across the mountains

We will go home, singing our song  
We will go home...

I watched the faces of my friends as Vanora's voice rang out in the yard. Lancelot stared stonily into his cup while Bors' face was lit up in a way I had never seen. Gawain looked off into the distance and Galahad mouthed the words of the song to himself. Dagonet's tears struck a cord in me. It was Tristan's face that truly mirrored my own feelings. Some of the men were desperate to go home, while the others were just thankful to be free. Tristan didn't mind the idea of home, but he didn't know what to do with himself. Freedom affects all men though and I knew he was grateful for it. I wondered if I would ever see them again. Of course I would. Something inside me told me that I would be with these men for many years to come. I would grow old with them._  
_  
_Hear our singing  
Hear our longing  
We will go home across the mountain _

We will go home  
We will go home...

As the song ended I saw people rush to dry their eyes. I looked at Galina and noticed suddenly that she looked ill. Her jaw was clenched tightly and all the color had drained from her face. I took the moment to assess her health. Her face was sunken and boney, but still lovely. Her eyes no longer held the same spark that they used to. When she looked at me with her fawn colored eyes, she wasn't the naïve, laughing girl she had once been. She reminded me of a wounded doe I had seen once. I looked away quickly and my eyes landed on Arthur. His face looked haunted as he watched us. My leader quickly turned and began to walk away, but before he could get far Jols noticed him.

"Arthur!" The squire called and Arthur froze. I felt the wind change and glide across my skin ominously.

"Arthur!" Galahad called gleefully. Drunken men were not what Arthur had hoped to find. He didn't seem surprised though. Galina walked over and stood next to me as we clustered around our commander. I suddenly was afraid. I wanted to hold Galina's hand for comfort in hopes that some of her tranquility would spread to me, but I resisted the urge for reasons of pride.

"You're not completely Roman yet are you?" Galahad asked with no real hatred. He held up his pitcher of wine in an offering and grinned madly.

"Rus!" Bors said and thudded his fist against his chest in one of the obnoxious rituals of men that I would never understand.

I didn't look at Tristan, but my ears picked up on the sound of him cutting into an apple. I knew he would not be smiling, and I could see that Galina and Lancelot were aware of the morbid look on Arthur's face.

"Knights. Brothers in arms." Arthur said looking each of the men directly in eyes. That should have immediately alerted the men to a problem. He was directing his calm, reasonable voice exclusively at those who had just been awarded their freedom. "Your courage has been tested beyond all limits, but I must ask of you one further trial."

The idea was so outrageous that the men didn't believe him. I watched every pained flinch of his person and the sheer agony in his eyes. How could they not see it?

"Drink." Bors said it was obvious. They chuckled and Galahad continued to laugh, drunk on freedom.

"We must leave on a final mission for Rome before our freedom can be granted."

More laughing. No…No…

"Above the wall there is a Roman family in need of rescue. They are trapped by Saxons. Our_ orders_ are to secure their safety." He said steadily. The emphasis on the fact that it was an order relieved me. It wasn't just some mad, noble task Arthur had been convicted to carry out.

"Let the Romans take care of their own." Bors said dismissively. If only.

"Above the wall is woad territory." Gawain stated with a slight edge to his drunken voice.

"Our duty to Rome, if it was ever a duty, is done. Our pact with Rome is done." Galahad's voice was laced with bitterness as he scathingly said the words. I couldn't help agreeing with him. It was not some duty we did out of honor, it was _slavery_. And their fifteen years were up.

"Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you. For you.  
And instead of freedom, you want more blood? Our blood?  
You think more of Roman blood than you do ours?" Bors asked loudly and I knew he was about to explode in a rage. My eyes never left Arthur though.

"Bors, these are our orders." Arthur said wearily. "We leave at first light and when we return, your freedom will be waiting for you. A freedom we can embrace with honor-"

"I am a free man!" Bors roared and I winced. "I will choose my own fate."

There was a tense silence for a moment and I heard the cry of an infant.

"Yeah yeah- We're all going to die someday." Tristan said scornfully. "If it's a death by a Saxon hand that frightens you," Tristan said scornfully. He looked up and gave them all a look of pure disgust before continuing. "Stay home."

In my eyes, Tristan's mindset was admirable, if disturbing. The man was too comfortable with dying, and it frightened me. I knew suddenly how Galahad and Gawain felt every time they watched me do something reckless. I didn't have time to ponder the hypocritical feeling however.

"If you're so eager to die," Galahad said as he lunged at my lover. Lancelot restrained him forcefully. "Then you can die right now! I've got something to live for!"

"The Romans have broken their word. We have the word of Arthur." Dagonet said, ever the loyal voice of reason. "That is good enough. I'll prepare."

He began to walk off and suddenly it was too much. I needed to get away from them. I knew they would all join us. For all their harsh words, they were too loyal to Arthur to do anything else. Plus they had no choice. I began walking in the opposite direction and I touched Arthur's arm as I passed to let him know I was with him. I made my way back to the barracks and stepped into Galina's room. The golden little boy was laying on her bed wide eyed. His eyes were red with crying.

"Hungry?" I asked as I look him in my arms. "I can't help you there."

I cuddled him and smelled his cheek. The soft baby smell clouded my senses wonderfully. I turned around as I felt a presence in the doorway. Tristan stood there and scrutinized me. He walked over and lent the child a finger to grasp. Geraint gripped the finger and smiled at the two of us.

"Like children now?" Tristan asked.

"They aren't so bad when they're like this." I said simply. I suddenly remembered the words of the young woman who supplied with me my herbs. "I doubt I can even have children anymore though. The herbs you know…"

I felt him look at me.

"Herbs aren't necessary." He said quietly.

"Not anymore." I shrugged. It was our last night and I didn't know if I would find another suitable lover for a while. He didn't say anything for a moment. He grunted and left the room. The man mystified me sometimes. I played with Geraint until his mother returned. We embraced for a moment and they Galina took her child in her arms and devoted her attentions to him. I made my way to my room. I had not slept in it in months. I let my hair down completely and wiped off my kohl lined eyes. What the others felt, I knew not. I myself was peaceful. Whatever fate awaited us, worrying about it would not change it. Plus I was never too distressed about going into battle. I made sure I had all my weapons ready for in the morning and then went to Tristan's room.

"Very pretty." I said mockingly as I found him touching up his tattoos. He ignored me and continued. "Tristan…Many things are worth dying for, but have you ever thought anything was worth living for?"

He paused in his ministrations to his face and then continued. I waited until he was finished and he set down his ink.

"Yes."

I waited for an elaboration. A blank stare was all I received.

"You're exasperating."

"Yes."

"Well Galahad and Gawain have politely requested that I not get myself killed. I'd like for you to try and stay alive too."

A raised eyebrow.

"I mean I know it's asking a lot…" I said annoyedly. He looked as if he had suddenly made up his mind about something. He picked up his ink again and made me lie down. I stared at the needle and ink pouch for a moment. His hand went forward and tilted my chin upwards and to the left, exposing my ear and neck. I didn't protest as he leaned forward and began to put a mark on the flesh below my ear next to my jaw. I stared at the fire as he tapped the needle into my skin repeatedly. I knew was mark he was leaving on me. I knew in the morning I would I have two claw marks below my ear and I knew they would match Tristan's.

* * *

Hope yall like it! Review! I made it extra long as an apology. 


	16. Guilt

**BlueEyesAtNight-Hahaha you're determined to give away the story aren't you?**

**Alexandra-I'm really glad you like my story! **

**MustangGal-Dag shall live!**

**Katemary77- Yayyy! That's the most awesome compliment! I did not want Isolde to be a MS!**

**Kafan- Yep! I'm a youngin!**

**TwistofShadows- Yeah not English…Geometry…Ugghhh

* * *

**

I woke up while it was still dark. My bare back was pressed against Tristan's back and one of my feet was pressed between his calves. I fingered the tattoo on my neck as I listened to his breathing.

My relationships with the men were all strong, yet distinctly different. Tristan and I had an understanding. So much went unsaid between us, but I liked it that way. I never told him that I missed him on nights we spent apart or when I didn't go with him to scout. I never told him that I admired the way he would occasionally open himself up to say something profound, but not florid, like he had done in the yard in defense of Arthur. I would never tell him that I was not jealous or worried about him making his way back home and taking some other woman. Somehow I knew he wouldn't. I just couldn't picture it in my mind. It was impossible. And if I wanted my old lover back when I returned, he would be in Sarmatia living a solitary life and he would welcome my company. He was like a half of me. You didn't tell yourself these things…You simply knew.

I felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. I had let this man ingrain himself in me. I had let me mark me. I felt _branded_… I stood up quickly and dressed myself. After entering my own room I dressed again, this time putting on my thick blue tunic. I lined my eyes with coal. Though the sun would be dull in the woad territory, the kohl would protect my eyes from the frigid conditions. When my hair was braided and my kohl smeared on, I gathered what I would need for the mission. We would be traveling light and quick with as little confrontation as possible. I threw my dark, colorless cloak around my shoulders and pinned it with a plain brooch. I looked at the coral ring around my finger. I didn't even know which of my tribesmen it had come from, but it was precious to me. I grabbed my bow, my dagger and Pata, but I left my shield and machaira in my room.

I stopped by the kitchens on the way to the stables and found Galahad and Dagonet already there. I tossed them chunks of bread and took a seat next to them. We sat in silence for a while until the light started filtering through the windows. Galahad finally left to attend to his horse while Dagonet began warming up. I grabbed a whetstone and began sharpening my blades. While I was doing that, Bors and Gawain walked it. Faces were all somber as we prepared for the mission. Lancelot, Galina and Tristan poured in as I finished with Pata. Tristan leaned over and quickly kissed the mark on my neck. I laid my hand on his neck and walked towards Kolaksay's stall. I waited until I knew he wasn't looking and quickly brushed my hair over the tattoo. I wasn't ready to share that with anyone, and I didn't want the men to get the wrong idea. I stroked Kolaksay's neck and leaned my forehead against his face. He tolerated the affectionate embrace for a few moments before snorting at me to get off. I quickly brushed his coat and saddled him up. I turned around just in time to see Arthur enter the stables. Some of the men regarded him coolly, but that was nothing compared to the looks the Bishop received. The ferrety looking aide behind him looked like he was going to faint.

"To represent the holy court, my trusted secretary Horton- Horton?" The ferret stepped forward "Will accompany you with your quest."

Arthur looked like he would love nothing more than to shove the Bishop's head into a steaming pile of horse dung. Come to think of it…So would I.

"Jols, find him a horse." Arthur deadpanned.

"Godspeed as you fulfill your duty to Rome." The Bishop said.

Oh I'd give him Godspeed… I'd Godspeedly shove my foot up his-

"My duty is also to my men." Arthur nearly growled stepping forward. Germanius looked nervous before continuing.

"Then get them home." Bloody priest… Always had an answer for everything.

* * *

Once the gates had been opened and we were a significant distance from the wall, we relaxed somewhat. Although Jols rarely traveled with us, he was not a burden, just another comrade. Horton however, was a pain in the ass. We ignored the ferret not only because he was irritating, but also because of his association with the Bishop. I didn't like spies. None of us did. It was a grim, dangerous mission. Tristan didn't scout very much because Arthur wanted to head straight to the estate. We weren't worried about crossing paths with anyone. Our plan was to ride through areas so quickly that our enemies didn't have time to fight.

On the second day we rode through a large forest. There was something eerie about the way the trees swayed. And we were all unsettled by the sinister seeming old man we had come across earlier in the forest. His laugh haunted the forest…

"Woads." Tristan said suddenly. "They're tracking us."

We all had known it.

"Where?" Arthur asked.

"Everywhere." Tristan said at a loss.

"Get back!" Lancelot cried as arrows flew from the trees. Ropes of thorns crisscrossed in the middle of our path, blocking our way. Galina gave a cry and followed Arthur through even more underbrush. We followed and then turned around. It was chaos. We scattered down paths only to be cornered by spear wielding woads. Arrows flew around us from all directions. Finally we ended up back where the attack first started and prepared for a fight. I saw the woad who Arthur had spared only days ago with an arrow notched at Arthur.

"There's gratitude for you." I mumbled to Bors as I held my sword up. We were trapped and outnumbered. The sound of a horn drifted through the trees quickly and intrusively. The woads looked aggravated and did not move from their positions.

"What are you waiting for?" Gawain shouted. I felt his unease. If there was going to be a fight, it was better to get it over with. No one liked to be stared down by their enemy. Another blow of the horn filtered through the thick foggy air and they lowered their weapons. They gave us a few disappointed glares and they were gone. I stared at were they had been only moments before…They had _melted_ away.

"Inish!" Dagonet cried. "Devil ghosts!"

"Why would they not attack?" Galahad asked. We were all unnerved. Arthur looked around once more before answering.

"Merlin…does not want us dead." We all shivered. We were alive because Merlin had spared us.

* * *

We rode on for the rest of the day until everything was covered with the thick blanket of night. As soon as our fire was sufficient built up, the rain started and we were forced to huddle under cloaks like old women. We were out of food and now we were wet and cold. Even normally cheery Gawain was complaining.

"I can't wait to leave this island." He began and I glanced at him. "If it's not raining, it's snowing. If it's not snowing, it's foggy."

"And that's the summer." Lancelot said grinning.

"Would you rather be frozen in a tent back home?" I asked Gawain. He shivered and shook his head no.

"The rain is good. Washes all the blood away." Bors said in an ironically grim sort of optimism.

"Doesn't help the smell." Dagonet said looking pointedly at Bors. Lancelot suddenly looked thoughtful.

"Hey Bors…You intend on taking Vanora and all your little bastards back home?" He asked. I looked at Bors. He cared for the runts more than he let on.

"Oh I'm trying to avoid that decision. By getting killed." Bors said airily. We laughed and shook our heads. Bors suddenly remembered something. "Dagonet, she wants to get married, give the children names!"

Oh my. How dreadful.

"Women." Tristan said contemptuously while examining his sword. "The children already have names don't they?"

"Just Gilly. It was too much trouble, so we just gave the rest of them numbers. You'd better watch yourself Tristan. Before you know it Isolde will be nagging you to get married…" Bors said. I kept my face blank.

Tristan made a noncommittal noise and sheathed his sword.

"That's interesting." Lancelot said. "I thought you couldn't count."

We all laughed while Bors chose to ignore the comment.

"You know, I never thought I'd make it back home alive. Now that I've got the chance, I don't think I'd leave my children."

"You'd miss them too much." Dagonet said assuredly.

"I'll take them with me. I like the little bastards. They mean something to me… Especially number three! He's a good fighter." Bors said proudly.

"That's because he's mine." Lancelot said. I fell backwards off my log as I laughed. Bors grumbled as he stood up.

"I'm going for a piss." More laughter. Galina helped me up and I leaned against her heavily. She was trying not to laugh too much lest in turn into a cough. At that my mood sobered and I squeezed her shoulders. A few more minutes passed and I went to lay down and sleep. I dreamt of Geraint lying in the snow all alone with no mother to hold him.

* * *

"Up." Gawain said as he poked Galahad and me. I opened up my eyes and wiped my chin free of drool. Galahad groaned and lifted his head off my shoulder.

"Woss' tha'?" He yawned looking at my neck. I slapped a hand over my neck and mumbled something. I already regretted it.

"Just lovers?" Gawain said raising an eyebrow at me. Galahad eyed the tattoo and then stood up. We said no more of it as we dressed and prepared to continue riding and for that I was thankful.

* * *

We rode into the lands of Marius Honorius and I wondered at how it came to be owned by a Roman. If the Romans had conceded that the northern parts of Britain belonged to the woads and they even had a wall separating the two lands, under what pretenses did this pope allot this land to another Roman? I might ask Arthur later…Or I might not, as it did not concern me.

As we rode closer to the villa, shabby looking serfs came into view. They tilled the land until we rode closer, at which point they looked up. I stared straight ahead at the gates that were shutting.

"Who are you?" A soldier on the top of the wall called down to us.

"I am Arthur Castus, commander of the Sarmatian knights and sent by Bishop Germanius of Rome. Open the gates!" My leader called as we stopped outside the gates. Yes open the damned gate. I was hungry and I felt my mood starting to sour.

"It is a wonder you have come! Good Jesus, Arthur and his knights!" A portly man called as he walked out of the opened gates. He was followed by soldiers and dressed in fine Roman attire. Marius. Galahad snatched his horse back as the portly one tried to pet it. Silly little man… "You have fought the woads? Vile creatures!"

This Roman trait of disregarding entire peoples annoyed me more and more…

"Our orders are to evacuate you immediately." Arthur said cutting to the chase. The portly one's smile faltered.

"That's impossible." He sputtered.

Obviously this was not the man to speak to.

"Which of you is Alecto?" Arthur asked loudly.

"I am Alecto." A boy called out from the wall. He and the crimson cloaked woman behind him walked down to wear we were.

"Alecto is my son." Marius began. I vaguely tried to remember anyone asking him to speak. No. Can't remember. "Everything we have is here in the land given to us by the pope."

"Well, you're about to give it to the Saxons." Lancelot said amiably. He was in no mood for delays. He wanted his discharge paper.

"They're invading from the north." Arthur said not bothering to keep Lancelot in line. I kept my face blank. Best not to offend the Roman anymore, but I would not offer a worshipful smile in response to his hindrances.

"Then Rome will send an army." Marius said trying to look sure of himself. Ha. Fool.

"They have. Us." Arthur said shooting down the man's hopes. "We leave as soon as you are packed."

"I refuse to leave." The short man said trying to muster his courage. I resisted the urge to let Kolaksay trample him. It would be so easy… "Get back to work! All of you!"

"Back to work!" The soldiers cried and began shoving the serfs in the direction of their fields. I nearly smiled. Arthur was going to put this man in his place very soon. We waited for the men to finish their brutality. Arthur quickly hopped of his horse and strode over to the portly one.

"If I fail to bring you and your son back, my men can never leave this land." He said in a dangerous voice. "So you're coming with me if I have to tie you to my horse and drag you all the way back to Hadrian's wall myself. My lord… Lady my knights are hungry."

The timid looking woman hurried off after she gained her husband's look of permission. My look became somewhat frosty when I recognized the look of woman who was completely at mercy of a depraved husband. The Roman pushed past his son and walked back into his villa. Arthur looked at a group of huts where an elderly man was strung up underneath some wooden posts. I looked at Lancelot.

"Trouble." I said under my breath and he nodded. I edged Kolaksay a little closer to the serfs and kept my hand on the hilt of Pata. I snorted as Bors scared a monk away. I couldn't wait to get away from this place that stank of servitude. I kept an eye out for opposition as Arthur cut down the man and yelled at the serfs. Arthur noble nature was going to bring us trouble. I could sense it.

Galina sighed as she came to stand next to me.

"He ordered the serfs to travel with us." She said. I pursed my lips. They would slow us down considerably, but I knew better than to ask Arthur to go against his moral convictions.

* * *

Over an hour later we all were helping the mercenaries and serfs load wagons. Arthur had already told them not to bring frivolous items like Marius's bedding. Ass. He should be concerned about bringing the food and gold.

"What are you doing?" A distraught mercenary asked me as I threw a cluster of candles over my shoulder onto the ground. For a while I had been on the other side of the wagon as the men stacked box after box into the wagon. I had taken it upon myself to declare what needed to be left behind. So far I had confiscated a large pile of candles, parchments containing tax records, infant clothes, and a ceremonial sword.

"Helping us travel faster?" I offered. The man looked ready to argue before Dagonet rode by and gave the man a glare. I smiled charmingly. I immediately noticed as Tristan rode into the estate and began conversing with Arthur. Arthur's face was grim and suddenly we all froze. The sound of drums filled the air. I observed Arthur as he glanced at the strange stone hut that a couple of monks were finishing. Without a sound I swung myself up onto Kolaksay's back and drew Pata as Arthur walked over to the hut.

"Move." Arthur ordered for the second time. The mercenaries looked at the others and I and backed off. "What is this place?"

"You cannot go in there! This place is forbidden!" My eyes bored into the foolish monk's. He was shoved aside and soon Dagonet began slugging away at the wall when it was discovered that there was no key. What evil was this?

We ignored the protests and protected Arthur as he, Lancelot, Gawain and Dagonet dragged a few monks in after them as they entered the ominous looking shack. They disappeared, but after a few moments a smelled wafted out of the hut. Oh gods…I smelled rotting bodies…

I kept a firm grip on my sword.

"Galahad," I said looking at my friend. "There's something down there…"

He and Galina looked at the black doorway. It suddenly seemed like the way to hell. I looked to Tristan, ignoring the snowflakes that powdered my face. We locked eyes until the sounds of the men returning filled the air. I looked over sharply as I saw Arthur and Dagonet place two bundles of rags on the ground. I felt disgusted as I realized that it was a young woman and boy that I saw.

"Water!" Arthur called out and Horton supplied him with it.

"She's a woad." Tristan said sheathing his sword. I glanced at the girl's legs and noticed the blue tattoos. What was going on here?

"Stop what you are doing!" Cried an outraged Marius. If I were him, I would have kept my mouth shut.

"What is this madness?" Arthur nearly hissed.

"They are all pagans here!" The portly one cried as if that alone should justify the torture of humans.

"So are we!" Galahad said angrily.

"Your own church has ruled pagans to be harmless." I said smoothly.

"They refuse to do the task God has set for them! They must die as an example!" The man snapped, trying a different tactic. I loathed hypocrisy.

"Your Jesus was a carpenter, no?" I asked coolly. "And his followers, they were fishermen were they not?"

"You dare to compare these_ pagans_ to the Son of God?" The priests asked angrily.

"Why yes. I believe so." I answered simply. Arthur's voice kept the monk from retorting.

"They refuse to be your serfs? Is that it?" Arthur bellowed.

"You are a Roman! You understand! _And_ you are a Christian!" Marius snapped. "And _you_! You kept them alive!"

Several of the knights, myself included, nearly jumped out of saddle to strangle the man as he struck his wife. The blue girl's eyes widened as she watched. Arthur had punched the man and had Excalibur at his neck in a moment. I turned away, knowing Arthur would spare the man. I looked up at the sky and watched the snow fall towards the earth. Sometimes I wondered why men and women made life such a sordid, painful journey. The drums filled my ears and all I could do was listen. After a moment it seemed as if my heart was beating with the drums. I could no longer tell if the sound that pounded my ears was of my own heart or the drums of those who came to kill all I knew.

"Isolde." Tristan said quietly and I looked at him. We were leaving. Apparently the portly one had relented. I nodded and nudged Kolaksay to follow the scout.

* * *

"How many?" I asked Tristan later as we rode beside the caravan. He didn't need to ask who I was asking about.

"Several hundred at least. I'd say over a thousand." He said not really focusing. I nodded my head and we rode in silence for a while longer.

"They're going to make trouble with that woad." Tristan said later. I had already seen both Lancelot and Arthur offer to dote on the girl. The two of them had their disagreement often enough, but they had never caused grief over a woman.

"You think so?" I asked.

"She's going to notice." He remarked knowing I already had realized the trouble on the way. I felt a pang travel through my body. Galina… Lancelot… I looked up and stared at the figure of my oldest friend who rode several paces ahead of me. It was right at that moment that I saw her shoulders slump.

"Trista-" I began but it was too late. Her body was already falling from the saddle. I was off Kolaksay in a moment.

"Galina?" Arthur asked worriedly as I held her in my arms. Her face was deathly pale and I could tell she was sweating. It was freezing outside. No one should have been sweating. I winced has she gave a feeble cough and blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth. No…no no no…Not now. Not now. Her breathing was ragged.

"We have to get her in the wagon." I said fighting down panic. Lancelot nodded and picked her up. He held her gently while he rushed her over to the wagon. I followed him along with Arthur.

"How long?" The woman called Fulcinia asked.

"Years." I said and turned away. I should have done something _years _ago. They could have posted us somewhere besides Britain. It was common knowledge that a wet atmosphere made this sort of illness worse. And I had let her live in _Britain_. Stupid giant swamp. I felt guilt writhe in my stomach.

"She implored you not to tell?" Arthur asked and I was glad for his understanding. I had not wanted to keep it from them. I nodded and we turned our attention back to Galina. Dagonet pushed some of her dark golden hair away from her face. She was shivering ,but her forehead was on fire.

"She needs rest." He said. "Or breathing will soon be too difficult."

Arthur and Lancelot nodded grimly. I couldn't move.

* * *

Whew… Ok well there's a long ass chapter. I'm going to be gone for a few days so I thought I'd at least give yall a long chapter. I have some plots in my head now… I just thought of something to do with the ice scene…and there's going to be a Mary Sue ass kicking scene in the future… But it won't be Guinevere getting her but kicked cause honestly I love her! She was awesome in the movie…So calculating… Anyways! Ahhh BlueEyesAtNight! Hahah stop guessing! You'll ruin the story! 


	17. A Shattering Cold

**Blue Eyes At Night- Hahah I'm just kidding its fine! **

**Ok I'm back! Dun dun dun…Ice chapter! Whoooo!

* * *

**

The wagon was crowded as we traveled eastward. Kolaksay was tied to the wagon with my weapons on his back should I need them. The various bumps and creaking sounds faded into the back of my mind as I mulled over the situation. Dagonet and Fulcinia tended to Galina and the others as I watched. Galina drifted in and out of consciousness for nearly two hours. I was always there when she awoke, ready to wipe her brow and reassure her that she was in good hands. She called out for Lancelot every time she woke up. She mumbled mine and Geraint's names in her torpid state, but she always asked for the man she worshipped when she awoke. He poked his head in to stare worriedly at her several times, but he never stayed for her to wake.

Galina loved Lancelot with every fiber in her body and with every breath she took. Her love was feverish and boundless. She would never speak an ill word against him or be upset with him. That was part of why he would never love her the way she loved him. Lancelot needed a woman with a mind of her own, a woman who kept him on his toes. Galina, bless her heart, was not the one for him. And though he loved her, he would never look at her with the same fervor and passion as she looked at him. I could never be angry with him for it though. A man cannot help who he loves.

I caught the movement of opening eyelids and slowly turned my head to stare at the woad woman. She looked to be no older than me. I took in her appearance. Coarse, dark brown hair and eyes the color of fresh turned earth. She was beautiful, despite the red rimmed eyes and layers of filth. Her face was too thin, but unlike Galina's, her eyes and skin spoke of a youth that would thrive again once properly nourished. She gathered her thick fur blanked around her and stared at me like a cornered animal. I could see her eyes flicking this way and that; ciphering escape routes and weighing out her chances of success.

"We're not going to throw you in another dungeon if that's what you are thinking." I said breaking the silence. Dagonet and Fulcinia looked up for a moment and then went back to minding their business. They were listening though. She regarded me with intelligent eyes and I offered her a blank face. Her lips were pursed in a practiced manner and I felt that she could keep her mouth shut when she wanted to so I shrugged and went back to tending Galina.

"Are you a knight?" Asked a hoarse voice several minutes later. I looked to Dagonet who nodded and tossed me a water satchel. I handed the woad the skin and observed her stoically.

"Yes." I said and sat back. We stared at each other for a moment and nothing more was said. She regarded me with a certain amount of respect and wariness after that.

"Why would a woad be held prisoner by monks at a Roman estate?" I asked simply. The fact that the portly one's wife was sitting right by me didn't faze me. Women were usually perfectly, if painfully, aware of their husbands faults. Fulcinia stiffened, but didn't look up. The fur covered girl slowly dragged her eyes away from the spaces between the shabby side paneling of the wagon and stared at me hard.

"My village was raided." She said evenly but then offered no more. More silence. When Arthur entered the wagon moments later I quickly hopped out of the wagon and mounted my horse. I rode Kolaksay over to where Bors and Gawain were.

* * *

"How is she?" Gawain asked with forced lightness. They were upset with me. And her. They were unprepared to discover that their companion was dying from some sickness that was destroying her from the inside. Men did not deal with such fear and sorrow well.

"Dying." I said. The word fell out of my mouth like a rock. A cold, hard stone. I couldn't stand it. Now that everyone knew of the illness, it made her death seem even more real. Why couldn't I save her? I was supposed to protect her from everything. I had failed with Branwain, but now I found I couldn't save Galina from her own body. Bors opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. He swallowed thickly.

"Stupid…" He mumbled. "Should have told us…Shouldn't have been out in this weather…Rest…Stupid…"

"I'm sorry." I said quietly. I was appalled to find myself close to blubbering all over the place. I knew if I started I would be able to stop. I had cried once since I had been taken from my homeland, and that was when Branwain…when Branwain… I stiffened my spine and dug my nails into my forearm. Don't cry. Don't be weak. I was no match for death. Whatever would happen would happen. I kept repeating in my mind over and over, but I couldn't get Branwain's face out of my head. I dug my nails even deeper until I felt my skin break.

"Did she tell you anything?" I asked Arthur as I rode up to where he and Lancelot were. I had watched him exit the wagon with a disturbed expression.

"Her hands…" He said shaking his head as if he was trying to block out a memory. He shook himself and then looked at Lancelot and me. "She calls herself Guinevere. She knew my name and who we all were."

Lancelot peered into the trees around us, as if nature itself spied on us.

"She's no ordinary woad." I said calmly. They both nodded in agreement. Normal people didn't hold themselves the way this Guinevere did. They didn't speak so boldly and with such authority to armed knights. And she was clever. Her eyes had been bright with a calculating energy.

"Not too bad looking." Lancelot said with a charming grin. Arthur's expression became somber at that and Lancelot quickly sobered his face.

"How's Galina?" He asked quietly as he grabbed my hand. He squeezed my hand when I didn't answer.

"Dying." The word came easier this time. I was doing what I was good at. I was removing myself from my humanity. Numbing myself to what could be a weakness if left unchecked. Without another word he rode off ahead from Arthur and I. Arthur patted my shoulder and wheeled his horse around to speak to Guinevere who was leaning at the front of the wagon. I watched their conversation become fierce and I smiled. Nothing better for Arthur than a woad who challenged him.

* * *

I enjoyed my solitude for a while longer until we all stared in horror at the carnage that we passed. Frozen bodies with gruesomely terrified faces. The Saxons had reached the village before we did.

"Monsters." I said disgustedly and Tristan nodded. His hawk stared at the bodies also and he tweaked her beak. Although the bird was probably considering picking at the dead bodies, I liked to think that even a bird was disgusted by the slaughter.

"I'm going to get a cold and have to stay in that damned wagon." I muttered.

"We'll be camping soon. You can sleep next to me if you'd like. You won't get cold." He offered. I had the sudden urge to drag him off into the woods and have my way with him. His offer had not been a lewd suggestion like Gawain or Lancelot would have made; it had been kind. I suddenly realized how great of a friend Tristan must have considered me.

As if some spiteful god had been listening, Arthur called us over and sent Tristan on a scouting mission. He wouldn't be back till morning. I supposed I'd just have to sleep between Gawain and Galahad for warmth. Tristan didn't look back as he rode off and so I shrugged and continued on with the caravan.

* * *

That night we set camp up in a grove of trees. Bors and I gave each other worried looks. There were at least six fires. We were practically a beacon in the night to the Saxons. I helped Dagonet fix up the wagons for the injured. I smiled fondly as he stroked the forehead of the small boy.

"What's his name?" I whispered. The boy with the tawny flop of curls snored lightly.

"Lucan." Dagonet said and laid his cloak over the boy. We watched the portly one talk conspiringly with his mercenaries. The man had to bloody hire his soldiers. I didn't trust him. The fool was willing to kill us and I knew it. He would slaughter the best warriors in Britain only to leave himself unprotected with Saxons on his tail. I was all for leaving him tied to a tree while we took the boy and his mother to the wall.

I was walking back to camp after unbridling Kolaksay when I saw Lancelot frozen in his tracks. I padded softly over to him. The snow barely crunched beneath my feet as I halted by him. His gaze was locked on Guinevere. A very naked Guinevere. In the darkness of the night, the wagon cover was pulled up and the sheer gauze of the side was see through from the lamp inside. Fulcinia was bathing Guinevere's back while the woad girl stared off into the distance. Galina was leaning heavily against the side of the wagon next to Guinevere. Her eyes were opened and her mouth was set grimly as she watched him stare at the naked girl in front of her. Fulcinia noticed the audience outside and silently pulled down the cover of the wagon. Lancelot's face was torn and confused. I gripped his elbow gently and he whipped around. He flinched, ready to take the anger he thought I would unleash on him. After all, Galina was my dear friend. Our dear friend.

"You've done nothing wrong." I said quietly. He settled back into his normal pose, although his usual cocky manner was gone. Instead it was a younger, less knowledgeable Lancelot that stood in front of me. One who was suddenly confused about his feelings for a woman that he shouldn't even have feelings for. She was a woad and it was evident that Arthur had also shown an interest in her. And as much of a womanizer as he was, hurting Galina was the last thing he wanted to do. I wanted to hate him. That would be the loyal thing to do. To hate a man who was hurting one's oldest friend…I couldn't though. It wouldn't be reasonable or fair. I nodded once more and left him standing there, bewildered by his own emotions.

I made my way over to the fire where Bors, Gawain and Galahad sat. I shivered in the cold. I wished Tristan had stayed.

* * *

I woke up early in the morning in Galahad's arms. I smiled wickedly to myself and kissed him sloppily. He smacked his lips together and mumbled something about Gawain's mother.

"Idiot." I said and stood up. I saw movement through the trees near the wagons and I took off with my sword.

"I have the boy!" Marius cried breathlessly as he clumsily held a blade to Lucan's throat. Silly Roman… He was as good as dead. What could he possibly hope to accomplish? Dagonet looked torn between following his instincts and killing the mercenaries, and surrendering himself to save the boy. "Get him!"

Fulcinia gave a cry and threw herself upon her husband, trying to free the boy. The portly one flung her aside and screamed at his soldiers.

"Kill him now!"

I could have told anyone that Marius's last moments were at hand, but I could not have predicted that at that moment, an arrow would come flying from behind me and lodge itself in the portly one's chest. He stared blankly his new appendage before collapsing. I turned around and gave Guinevere an appreciative look. It shouldn't have surprised me too much. I had killed woad women in battle before. I was surprised however that the frail looking woman could string that huge bow.

Lucan ran to Dagonet who shoved him downwards and whipped out his axe. Guinevere notched another arrow and let it fly into the ground in front of the mercenaries. I would have gone ahead and killed them if I had my bow.

"Do we have a problem?" Bors asked in booming voice as he rode over with a battle cry. Arthur looked at the mercenaries coldly.

"You have a choice. You help, or you die." He said with his godlike voice. I waited for them to drop their swords. It was very simple. They had picked the losing side, and now they were being give one last chance to join us. Galahad and Gawain arrived and survey the situation.

"Put down your weapons! Do it now!" The apparent leader of the mercenaries yelled as he dropped his sword. His broad face glared threateningly at his men. The roar Dag gave could have sent the dead scurrying back to their graves. That did it. The last of the mercenaries dropped their swords and Jols had snatched them up in a moment. I looked over sharply as Tristan rode up.

"How many'd you kill?" Bors asked cheerfully.

"Four." Tristan said and I could tell he was exhausted.

"Not a bad start to the day!" Bors said and began to laugh. I smiled. Not a bad start indeed. My scout rode over near Arthur and threw something at his feet. A crossbow.

"Armor piercing. They're close. We have no time." He said breathlessly to Arthur. I quickly scanned his body for evidence of armor piercing bolts. None.

"You ride ahead." Arthur said nodding. Tristan nodded back and I saw his eyes dart around, taking in Marius's body, the weaponless mercenaries and our fighting positions. He raised an eyebrow and rode off.

* * *

"I had the strangest dream…" Galahad said while giving me a sideways look. Lancelot and Gawain looked on curiously. "I dreamed that a beautiful Sarmatian woman slept in my arms all night and then woke me up with a kiss."

"That's a lovely dream." I said nonchalantly. Galahad looked at me, waiting for more. I gave him an innocent look.

"You want me and you know it." He said disdainfully. Gawain snorted.

"I didn't kiss you." I said plainly as if Galahad had gone mad.

"Nice try." Lancelot said to Galahad. Galahad's mouth dropped and he turned a delicate shade of pink.

"But-you-you-I know it wasn't a-Isolde…." He trailed off defeatedly and I winked at him while keeping my face blank. His eyes widened annoyedly and I rode off, leaving him to the jibes of Gawain and Lancelot.

* * *

I watched Tristan and Arthur converse quickly at the edge of the ice. I stared ominously at the frozen lake. The ice went on past the side of a cliff ledge. This would be dangerous.

"Off. Spread out." Tristan said to the serfs. In a moment everyone was on foot and we were hauling the wagons and horses across the ice. The frozen stuff creaked threateningly under the weight. I looked at Tristan as he stepped back quickly. He was frightened I realized. This quiet, deadly man was completely comfortable with the idea of dying so long as he had his sabre like sword in his hand, but when faced with a completely unglorified death such as drowning in a frozen lake, his vulnerability showed through. Kolaksay snorted at me and suddenly I heard the drums.

"Knights." Arthur said. It was a question.

"Well I'm tired of running. And these Saxons are so close behind, my ass is hurting." Bors said in his crude fashion.

"Never liked looking over my shoulder anyways." Tristan said shrugging. Dagonet gave anreckless smile.

"It'll be a pleasure to put at end to this racket." Gawain said as if he was about to swat a fly.

"To be honest, I was getting bored." I said relieved.

"We'll finally get a look at the bastards." Galahad said intently.

"Here. Now." Dagonet said as he began to prepare. I nodded at Arthur. I walked briskly over to where Galina was in the wagon. She was sleeping, deeply by the look of it. I left her that way as I gathered my weapons. She would probably do something stupid like try and fight. Branwain would have done that. The thought filled me with a determination to kill as many of the creatures who had taken my cousin from me. Perhaps it was not right to group them all together as one monster that needed to be eradicated, but I didn't really care. I hated them all the same.

Arthur quickly took care of getting Ganis and the mercenaries on their way. Alecto's brave attempt to join us was put down and the rest of them were soon on their way. When Guinevere offered to stay, no one argued. She said we could use another bow, and no one was stupid enough to disagree.

* * *

We stood on the ice with piles of arrows at the ready. I was perfectly aware that our chances of survival were slim. Dagonet and Lucan's farewell was stuck in my head. I couldn't help but wonder what that sad looking boy would do if Dag didn't come back. What chance did that orphan stand in Britain if we died? My morbid thoughts were interrupted by Lancelot. I could here him quiet plainly from my position between he and Tristan.

"Hold until I give the command." Arthur said loudly. My hands gripped my Sarmatian bow tightly. Just a little farther onto the ice…

"You look frightened." My enamoring friend said to the woad girl. "There's a large number of lonely men out there."

I smiled as I listened to Lancelot try to frighten Guinevere. I looked over my shoulder only to see her narrow her eyes insolently at him.

"Don't worry. I won't let them rape you." She said cynically and Lancelot's face twitched at the quickness of her retort.. I let my lips turn up in amusement. What she said had meaning though; a woman had more to lose on the battlefield.

"If someone tells you to bend over, Lancelot, call for me and I will rescue you." I in my most serious voice. I saw the slight look of distaste that crossed his face. Tristan scooted a little closer at the underlying meaning of our conversation. We all looked up as a Saxon stepped forwards from the ranks and fired an arrow. The pathetic shot didn't come halfway.

"I believe they're waiting for an invitation." Arthur said with a refined savagery. "Bors, Tristan."

"We're far out of range." Guinevere said alarmedly. She looked at Arthur as if he had gone daft. He only smiled knowingly.

Our two most brilliant archers quickly raised their bows. The pleasant sound of a bow twang filled the air for a moment and there were several arrows flying through the air at once.

"Good shot." I said to Tristan as a number of Saxons fell pierced. He said nothing and only reloaded. The Saxons immediately moved forward.

"Aim for the wings of the ranks. Make them cluster." Arthur ordered and I knew what he hoped to accomplish. I would try and kill as many as possible, just in case the ice didn't break.

We silently rained down arrows and the Saxons soon picked up on our firing pattern. They were soon scrambling to penetrate through the ranks into the middle. I fired arrow after arrow. The ice was not breaking. I watched amusedly as the bald Saxon leader frantically tried to keep his men in ranks.

"It's not going to break. Fall back! Fall back!" Arthur cried drawing his sword. "Prepare for combat."

We grimly threw down our bows and drew our weapons. For several moments we stood there, adrenaline charging through our veins. My breathing was ragged as I gripped Pata. I blinked and suddenly Dagonet was galloping across the ice. He was running towards the Saxons with a fierce cry with his huge battle axe swinging. What in the name of all the hells was he doing?

"Dag!" Bors cried out. "Dagonet!"

"Cover him." Arthur said trying to remain calm. We started firing arrow after arrow into the front lines of the enemy. If it carried a bow, we shot it. Dagonet was hacking into the ice and I realized he was trying to break through. I dropped my bow and dove over to Gawain. I snatched up his huge shield and took off across the ice. I arrivedand looked down at the ice only to see cracks begin shooting violently towards the Saxons lines. I shoved the shield in front of my huge friend just in time to let an arrow bounce off it. I stood with my right leg forward and I looked calmly at the arrow sticking out of Dag's side as he continued to hack. Suddenly two more arrows came and I felt my entire right leg begin to buckle. There was an arrow imbedded deeply into my thigh. The sounds of panicking Saxons filled my ears asI looked back to see Dagonet fall with an arrow in his side. I used my momentum to fall beside him and the shield dropped from my hands. I looked over his body to see Arthur running determinedly out towards us. The look on my Roman's face was something I had never seen before. He was not going to let us die. He would not abandon us.

"No!" I shouted as an arrow shaved his neck. Arthur kept going however and only touched the wound to make sure it hadn't opened up his artery. Dagonet had hauled himself up and gave one last final blow to the ice. He dropped next to me and gripped my forearm fiercely as the ice suddenly shattered. The roar of the splintering ice surrounded me and I closed my eyes to keep ice shards from blinding me. The ice beneath us gave away and I felt my head nearly split open as an overturning slab of ice slammed into my head. Dagonet was losing blood but his grip on my arm didn't slack as the cold enveloped us. My vision was darkening as I suddenly felt him being wrenched away from me. He tried pulling me upwards, but I couldn't help him. I was no longer floating; I was sinking. My body was like a dead weight and my leg was stiff. The water swirled around me with the currents created by the breaking ice. I was being pulled downwards and away. I fought to keep from calling out Arthur's name and swallowing wateras Dagonet suddenly disappeared through the hole filled with light. I was vaguely aware of more hands being shoved downwards. I even had an impression of a person flinging themselves through the hole into the water, but it was too late. I was falling and everything was going black.

* * *

I opened my mouth and panicked. Cold…My lungs were being filled with winter itself. My eyes snapped open,but I was too disoriented. I had been unconscious for only a few moments I realized. Otherwise I would not have woken up at all. There was a thin blue glow above me and my body forced itself upward. Air. Air. Air. My leg wasn't working and I remembered the arrow. My hands clawed frantically at the ice, willing it to break. Where was the hole? Where had I drifted to? I found an air patch and greedily sucked at the air. It wasn't enough. I ducked again and began swimming. I saw red currents and violent swirls of air and ice and limbs. I immediately registered that I had swam to the Saxon side of the ice where they were currently drowning. I popped my head up among the flailing bodies and gasped. So cold…So cold. It was too cold. I was going to die. I began to heave my body over the ice, but a thin dark haired mansaw me and pointed me out to a man with a shaved head and a flaxen goatee. He snarled and slammed a broadsword down by my head. I took a breath and went under again. My thoughts were become disjointed and abstract. I looked for another place I could go. I was losing blood and the cold water was taking over my body. I felt as though I was made of lead. My limbs scrambled to keep me from sinking. I couldn't hold my breath any longer and I was losing myself to the darkness again. I shot upwards with my last bit of energy and pulled a dead Saxon's body over me to hide myself.My handsgripped onto the edge of the ice. Blood seeped through myfingers as the sharp edges bit into my hands, but I couldn't feel it.

I looked towards the knights where Arthur and Bors were helping Dagonet walk. Iwas relieved at his survival.They allwere looking back to the hole in the ice where we had fallen through. _Don't leave me_ I wanted to scream. I didn't want to freeze to death surrounded by Saxon corpses. Anything but this. I tried yell at them but I couldn't. No sound but a hoarse croak would come out. I nearly wept as the edges of my vision started to shadow away. I was going to die with a dead Saxon on top of me. I was going to die with all this horror. The Saxons were retreating off the ice, but I dared not make any movement to alert Arthur and the men of my presence. I couldn't have moved anyways. I sagged pitifully against the ice, disgusted by my own weakness. I began shivering violently as I watched Galahad being restrained by Lancelot. He was screaming something but sounds no longer made sense to me. Tristan was just standing there with his bow at his feet as he looked out towards the ice. They had no choice but to retreat. Gawain pulled at Tristan as he threw looks over his shoulder. There was a sword in his hand. My sword. I smiled as I closed my eyes. At least my sword wasn't going to be at the bottom of the lake like me.

* * *

I wasn'tprepared to give up easily. I fought my way in and out of consciousness for what seemed like years. I wasn't going to die like this. Never. I was surrounded by bodies and I shivered at the though of how many of them were swirling around beneath me. I nearly threw up when I thought of what the lake would be like once spring came. But then again, that could have been the blow to the head. Everything was cold, including my body. The shivering had stopped. A bad sign. My body was running out of heat. The coldness of my limbs did not bother me…It was when I started to turn warm that I needed to be worried. Of course I probably wouldn't be aware of anything then.

* * *

I felt myself being lifted from the water. My hair was frozen and my face felt the same. I prayed to every god I knew that my body was not ruined. I did not want to live with out a leg or an arm. There would be no purpose to my life. How could I go to battle like that? I couldn't…

* * *

Warmth… Fire… Hands stripping me down and patting my body to make my blood flow. I slowly came to in a hut. The window was black with night. I was wrapped in several layers of fur and cloth, and I was precariously close to the fire. I wiggled my toes and fingers thankfully. All there. I was not in a Saxon camp, nor was I with the knights. That left few possibilities.

"Go tell Merlin she's awake." I heard a male voice say. I couldn't place the voice exactly… I watched a young girl run out of the hut. I turned my head slowly over to a table where two women and a man were watching me. I paid no heed to the two women; my eyes were locked on the man. Bright green eyes and shaggy brown hair. Damn it. Damn it all. I was in a woad camp.

* * *

**Ohhhh cliffhanger… Lalalalala! More later!**


	18. March

**Alexandra- I was merciful…he's alive**

**Blue Eyes At Night- I would love for them to slaughter the bishop…haha maybe I should put that as sort of an "alternate chapter"**

**Cameryn- Thanks!**

**Babaksmiles- Haha Brilliant? Thanks man**

**Katemary77- Yayyy! I feel like Guinevere is soo misunderstood… I thought she was really strong in the movie… I mean after all, she had just been in a dungeon thingy for a while… And she was so calculating it was awesome. She knew what she had to do!**

**Kafan- Sweet!**

**Ok! Um if I start to turn this into a highly predictable, Mary Sueish fiasco, feel free to be brutally honest. And by the way, the woad dude, in my mind, looks like Cillian Murphy. So hot…So hot…

* * *

**

��� I cocked my head to the side and stared for a moment longer.

"Well." I said simply. While I looked at him, I became aware of my body. I felt rested.

"You Sarmatians… No manners at all. You should be saying thank you." He said while not blinking at all.

"So it was you." I said coolly. I was in a woad camp. I had been killing woads for years. They knew I was Sarmatian. Inwardly I weighed out the odds of escape. None. Right then.

"Yes, I happened to be fishing-"

"Fishing?"

"Why yes. Fishing. As I was saying… I was fishing for Saxons, when suddenly I came across you. Naturally, I pulled you out of the water and brought you here. You almost died…You were blue and as cold as death…" He added the last part with a disturbed look as if he wished he could forget the memory.

"Thank you." Came my reply. I was smiling despite the grim situation I was in. I had not thought …whatever his name was… to have a sense of humor.

"_We _pulled you out." A girl with flaxen hair and familiar green eyes said with a degree of annoyance. She looked to be no older than seventeen summers, but her eyes were wise. He returned her annoyed look and tugged on one of her thick braids. They muttered with the older woman for a few minutes in their own tongue. They were interrupted by the arrival of a striking man. I looked up sharply as the one I knew to be called Merlin entered the room. I stood up warily. I did not believe in such a thing as magic, but the tales told of this man still were enough to make my skin crawl. I kept my mouth shut with my teeth clamped together. I would not say anything that could be used against me.

"Isolde. Welcome to our home." He said in a quiet, yet powerful voice. Wild tangles of auburn and brown hair covered his aging face. His eyes… Once moment they were dark and stormy and next they were swirling and hazel…I fought the urge to look away. They only other man that had ever unnerved me was Tristan._ Tristan_.

"Are they safe?" I asked forcefully. I knew this man would know where my comrades were. He nodded and I let out a breath I had been holding. They thought I was dead. Otherwise I knew within my very core that they would have all drowned trying to recover me. I was not comfortable with the idea of them leaving what could have been my body however…Leaving me to rot in some godforsaken puddle…I nearly shuddered.

"My daughter told me about you Isolde. The exceptional one…She told me of the woman knight who embodied everything great in a warrior. Observant, commanding, fearless, loyal… I'm sure she will be anxious to see you with a sword in your hand on a battle field."

Guinevere. I had felt that she was no ordinary woad, but the daughter of Merlin? The surprise must have shown on my face for he smiled.

"Yes. When she was…taken I assumed the worst. Your Arthur rescued her." He explained.

My Arthur…My Arthur was probably mourning me at this moment with everyone else I cared for. I felt queasy at the thought of them weeping over my death.

"I need to go to them." I stated but it was more a question. Would he let me go? I knew my own limitations. Without Merlin's leave, I would be lucky to make it out of the camp alive.

"We're leaving in the morning. We have a new interest in the great Roman wall…" He said somewhat cryptically. "You may join your companions when we near the fort. Until then, March will watch over you."

��� If anyone else had said that to me I would have been offended… The idea of being "watched over" did not appeal to me. At least I knew the man's name now. With that, Merlin bowed his head slightly and left the room. March's shoulders relaxed slightly and he nudged forward the pale headed girl.

"My sister, Ealasaid." I nodded in acknowledgement. I realized I was standing there in front of them with only a shabby tunic on.

"Your clothes and armor are drying." She said noticing that I had seen my attire. I nodded again. I wasn't sure what to say to these woads, so I did what came natural. I was silent.

"Ealasaid." The older woman in the back of hut called out. She and March's sister began speaking rapidly in their language.

"We have to prepare for tomorrow. I will see you before noon." Ealasaid said. They left the room with my clothes and left me with March. I took the opportunity to examine him. I was surprised to find him around my age, if only a little older. He was handsome, almost pretty with fair skin and pale green eyes.

"So." He said lazily as he sat down on a pile of furs. He looked at me through long eyelashes. I felt my stomach twist strangely and I suddenly felt lightheaded. Strange, but pleasant.

"You kissed me in the middle of a battle." I said finally. I had to get it out. He smiled indulgently.

"Yes. Would you like me to do it again? Or would you set your reclusive lover on me?" March asked with the confidence of youth.

"Tristan would do nothing." I said suddenly not caring what Tristan thought of anything. I sat down on larger pile of furs I recognized as a bed.

"Tell me something. You're young and in your prime. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and you're fascinating. Why do you keep an old man as your lover? Does he love you or does he just enjoy your bed?" He said sitting forward and looking at me intently. I was taken aback despite myself. I was not used to this forwardness… I_ was_ flattered though. I suppose all women longed to hear a man tell her some of the things March had just said to me. I felt a little defensive of Tristan however so I used that as an excuse not to respond to the other things he had said.

"He's not old. Of course compared to a boy such as yourself…" I replied lightly. Instead of sputtering or snapping back as one of the knights would, March smiled.

"I am young, I agree, but I'm no child. I'm older than you in all likelihood." He said sitting back once again. I agreed myself…Boys give off the air that March did. "How many summers have you seen oh wise Isolde?"

It took me a moment to calculate.

"Twenty one." I said. I felt old…Most girls my age were married with children. Not that I wanted that life…But it still made me realize how many years Rome had taken from me. March seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Will you marry your scout? Or will you marry a man you love?" Although he remained an appropriate distance away, March was making me feel like a cornered animal.

"Bah! Love!" I said with a small smile. "You act like you know all there is to know about it…Tell me woad, have you ever been in love?"

He looked me straight in the eye in a way that made my stomach float around inside me.

"Yes." I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. There was a moment of tension and March was beside me on the bed after one long stride. His eyes ran over my features and I tipped my head slightly forward.

��� I had no idea what I was doing. Part of me said that I should stop whatever was happening. I did not know March and he was a woad. And there was Tristan to think of. The logical part of me said that I should continue. If I wanted a man, why shouldn't I take him as my lover? And Tristan and I had an understanding…I was not his betrothed or his love and he was leaving as soon as he arrived at the wall.

��� With that thought drifting around my swirling thoughts, I returned the kiss that March placed on my lips. We smiled as we awkwardly grew used to each other. I had seen milkmaids and Shepard boys share kiss before…Young love…It looked entirely awkward and I had wondered why they even bothered with it. Tristan's kiss was did not have the same quality as March's. His was fluid and smooth and confident…March's was new and exciting. I tried to stop comparing the two men as March's hands went to push the tunic off my shoulders.

* * *

��� Dawn was drifting through the window when I awoke. My eyes snapped open and I remembered the night before. I rolled over in the arms that encaged me. March was sleeping soundly amongst the furs. I didn't feel uncomfortable with him, but I felt as though I had crossed some line by bedding him. Up until yesterday, he had been my enemy yet here I was wrapped in his arms. It had been an act of passion. We felt something for each other…There was some pull between us and we had answered to it. It made my ears burn to think of what the knights would think…They would never think me a whore, but I knew they would think me a silly love struck girl.

"Good morning." He said sleepily as he pulled me closer. Despite myself, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. He snuggled me into him and played with my hair.

"We're leaving soon." I said drowsily.

"Yes. I imagine you're very tired." He said pulling me on top of his chest. "It was a long night."

I smiled broadly and chuckled. Eventually we stood up and dressed. He brought me a lump of cheese and some coarse bread for breakfast. He kissed me deeply before running off to ready his men.

"He's longed for you for years now." Ealasaid said coming into the hut. She smiled warmly as she handed me my clothes and armor. I had a feeling she knew what had taken place during the night. "I remember when he came home after he had seen you for the first time…He was swearing he had seen a goddess."

"Oh…" I said dumbly. "Is he promised to anyone?"

I hoped she said no…Say no. Please say no.

"No." Ealasaid said with a teasing grin. I kept my face as blank as a stone. I was not going to marry a_ woad_ if that's what she was thinking…

"Ealasaid, time to leave." A man with a ginger head spoke as he shoved his head into the hut. I finished throwing on my clothes, but I left the armor off. I doubted I would need it. I felt somewhat naked as I helped Ealasaid gather some supplies…My hair was unbraided, I had no sword and my kohl was missing. I was very eager to return to the wall. A nauseating thought struck me. What if I arrived too late? I knew how eager my knights were to go home…What if by the time I got there, they had already left? I tried to push it away for a few minutes before giving in.

"March?" I said to my new lover as we prepared to leave. He looked up at me with bright eyes and a helpful smile. "Will the caravan reach the wall long before us?"

"No. They are traveling very slowly with those wagons… And no Roman or Sarmatian knows this land better than we do." He said comfortingly. He knew I wanted to say farewell to my companions. I smiled and prepared to leave.

��� I began paying attention to what was being brought with us. Weapons, food, bandages and medicine. Everything needed for a full scale war. I hid my suspicion as I looked around at the woads that were heading towards the wall. No man or woman was younger than fifteen and no one was a day over forty. They were all dressed in trousers with bits of leather serving as armor. They constantly applied and reapplied their blue paint. It suddenly occurred to me that the woads were going to the wall for a battle.

* * *

��� The next two days were spent traveling quickly through hills and forests. I spent most of my time with March, and for the first time in all my life, I felt like a girl. I felt carefree and loved. Every night as we lay next to each other, we told each other about our histories. I told him of my family and friends and of Sarmatia. I told him about Bela, Branwain, Lionel, Geraint and more. We carefully avoided talk of Tristan, and when he saw the tattoo that blackened my neck, he paused only for a moment. I found out much about him also. I learned of his youth spent with Ealasaid and others. I was surprised to find that he was the nephew of Merlin, and therefore Guinevere's cousin. He made me laugh. I was always laughing and smiling with him. And when he kissed me or even looked at me, I felt a strange sensation in my stomach like I had drank too much wine. I suddenly realized, the night we reached the wall, that I loved him. Foolish as it may seem, I felt I loved him after only a few days of knowing him.

* * *

"Come with me." I said as the huge walls glowed in the moonlight. Merlin had informed me that I could go back to the fort if it pleased me and that the knights were a day behind us. While the knights had taken the eastern route, the woads had no fear of traveling through their own land. They could hide an army from the Saxons.

March continued stroking my back as we embraced. We couldn't take our hands off each other, something I normally found repulsive.

"I suppose I could. I could tell Guinevere…" He trailed off thoughtfully and I played with a strand of his hair. I was twenty one and I was acting like a young milkmaid…

And so it was settled. March conferred with his uncle and soon I was scrubbing the paint off his body and helping him into a plain pair of trousers and a tunic. He ran off and returned with a horse.

"They will let us in?" He asked as we mounted the sturdy brown horse. I nodded quietly. So long as they did not suspect March, we should have no trouble. I steered us towards the gates of the large Roman wall and paused.

"What's your business?" A Roman auxiliary soldier called from atop the wall. He did not recognize me in the dark.

"I am Isolde, a knight under the command of Artorius Castus." I called up. The man peered at me and then nodded. They asked no more questions. I was, after all, a member of the most elite and dangerous fighting force in Britain. The Romans, despite all their pomp and arrogance, feared us. As they should…

"Where is Arthur? And Alecto?" Bishop Germanius asked confusedly as he rushed outside to meet me.

"I was separated from the caravan. They will be here in the morning." I said stiffly. My love for Germanius had not increased during our separation. I felt March edge back into the shadows somewhat. He was trying not to be noticed.

"And who is this?" The bishop asked eyeing March with rancor.

"A villager." I supplied smoothly. He looked suspicious for a moment but then he shrugged as if it was beneath him. He cared not.

"You may go now." He said wearily as he waved me away. I felt my nose twitch in a sneer. Did he really think I was waiting for his permission to leave? I gave him a mock bow and strode off to my quarters with March beside me.

"Ass. Pig. Disgusting son of a worm." I ranted icily as I entered my room. I laid down on my bed while March peered around the room. He picked up my shield and admired it. Vanora's face popped into my mind suddenly. She and the spawn would be worried sick. She was also keeping Geraint.

"Wait here. I'll be back." I said and exited the room. I made my way to the small cottage that Vanora and her children called home. Bors stayed in his rooms at the fort often, but he also spent many a night at his lover's home outside the fort. I stopped outside the cottage. Golden firelight was glowing through various cracks and openings. Before I had ever met Arthur or the knights, Bors and the other's had built the cottage with their own hands after the second bastard was born. Is this what a home was like? It was warm and comforting looking… I wondered what Bors must think every time he stood where I stood. The wife of his heart and all their children,_ his family_, awaited him inside. The wail of an infant startled me and I quickly knocked on the door.

"Bors-Isolde?" She asked as she threw open the door. A stampede of children ran to the door.

"I was separated from the others, but they'll be here tomorrow." I said looking around for Geraint. Vanora threw her arms around me thankfully. I hugged her back and after a moment she let me go and straightened her dress out and sniffled while trying to look dignified.

"Where's Geraint?" I asked. "I can take him now if you'd like."

"Here." Said a girl of about eleven. She smiled and handed me the little boy. It had only been a week, but he looked bigger to me. I smiled and let him run his tiny palms over my face.

"When is that Tristan going to marry you?" Vanora asked as she held her own infant. "He probably can't wait to settle down with you and start makin' babies."

"I doubt Tristan will ever marry and have children." I said thinking of the scout. Vanora shook her head.

"Even Tristan will want a family." She said knowingly. I shrugged and said good bye.

"Meet my boy Geraint." I said plopping down on the bed next to March. Geraint crawled from my chest to March's and gurgled. March looked awkwardly at the child. Tristan would have known how to handle the baby. I shook my head. I shouldn't compare them. Suddenly Geraint spit up on March. I laughed hysterically.

"It's not funny." He said disgustedly. He stood up quickly and tore of the tunic while I continued to laugh. He grinned and threw himself on top of me and began to tickle and kiss me. We could do nothing else with the infant on the bed with us like that. After a while Geraint fell asleep and March brought the roughly hewn crib into the room. I set Geraint down gently inside it and watched him breathe for a moment. March soon pulled me away and laid me down on the bed. His kiss still had that shy, questioning element to it and I wondered how long it would stay that way.

* * *

**Uhhh Isolde's a who-re…Not really! Hope yall like it! Of course I didn't want her to be perfect so she has to do something to make yall mad! **


	19. The Return

**Alexandra-Yes! Thank you…The "loves" are different.**

**Gil-hahaha wow! Ouch! But not everyone loves her...March may not even love her**

**Dear God, I don't even feel like writing anymore…Just kidding…Because it's my story and I'll be damned if I start catering to how other people think it should be. And just because everyone wants some "oh I love you and only you and I've always known it" Isolde, doesn't mean I'm going to give it to you. That would be a Mary Sue. I mean people make mistakes…It doesn't make her a bad person just cause she's not immediately ready to marry Tristan… Just uhh! Ok fine anyways. My story, not yours NANANANA!**

**Haha that's the most reviews I've ever had for one chapter! Wow..ahah Ok Well I just thought I'd clear some stuff up. Ok put yourself in Isolde's shoes… How many people go through life only having an infatuation with or loving only one person? I mean people date and have crushes before settling right? Nod your heads and say yes. And if you were young and you had never had a… sort of passionate, young, stupid relationship… you might just be susceptible to a hot half naked guy…Especially when she had seen him on and off for a few years and he kissed her and thought she was attractive…Yes? Yes. I mean and as for hoppin in to bed that quick, think of highschool and college students…Wow. At least she's not in an orgy… She is 21. She is young and she missed out on a lot of growing up. Some childish urges were bound to come out sometime. AND HOW COULD YOU THINK I WOULD KILL OF TRISTAN? DON'T YOU KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH BY NOW TO KNOW I WOULD NEVER KILL OFF _TRISTAN_! But we'll see how well it turns out… I absolutely promise you that it won't be resolved in some stupid, mary sueish, "I can never forgive you…I'm going to run away and do something stupid…then you rescue me and we'll make sweet sweet love…" way. Isolde just has to figure out what love is… I mean I kind of based it on relationships today…Everyone thinks they're in love and blabla divorces and highschool relationships with stupid break ups. Sometimes people are slow to recognize the truth…Whether its good or bad… I'm trying to make Isolde act her age a wee lil bit… Just a tad but soon you will all have the old cunning, cold Isolde back! She will actually come to realizations instead of passionate outburst… Wow I hope haven't given everything away! But I didn't want yall to foam at the mouth and boycott my story… By the way, my other story is starting off realllly slow I know, but it's going to get better. It's going to involve an actual love triangle where the other girl isn't a heinous bitch…It will be sort of bittersweet I suppose.**

**PS- March isn't a bad guy…He's just a funny woad who loves Isolde in an…infatuated way. He's not "the One" though…So don't go crazy.**

**PSS- Ealasaid is an old variation of Elizabeth, who was Mark's sister in the legend.

* * *

**

I woke up in the morning and sat up. I was famished. I quickly made my way to the kitchens, leaving March and Geraint sleeping in my room. I filched a small loaf of black bread and a some cheese. I was just about to leave when I remembered that Geraint would be starving. How to feed an infant… I looked at my food pitifully.

"Lady, how do you feed a babe?" I asked a hefty looking cook with a flushed face and arms. She looked at me while wiping her brow.

"Not yours eh?" She said eyeing my chest.

"No." I said stonily. The idea of nursing a child revolted me more than any man could understand.

"Does the child have any' teeth yet? You could chew some food aroun' then spit it out for the infant." She said seriously. The food I was munching on suddenly tasted rather bland. She raised an eyebrow at my repulsed expression. "Weeeell girl…You can put some milk in a skin and let it suck on that."

I nodded. _That_ I could do. I looked around for something to use. A small drinking horn caught my eye and I picked it up. That would do nicely. The woman handed me a bit of leather and I twisted it into a soft, sturdy cone. The cook held the horn still while I grabbed a stein of goat's milk and poured some into the horn.

"Thank you." I said as I tied the leather to the opening of the horn. She nodded wearily and went back to work. I groaned as I began walking through the hall to our rooms. Children were so much _work_!

"Well, I'm fairly surprised. I thought you would have been killed ages ago." I heard a voice said. I turned around slowly and felt my face curl in a sneer.

"Scato." I said his name like the name of a plague. "Why have you decided to grace us with your presence? Is that perfume I smell?"

"No." He said annoyedly. "I thought a dog would have a better sense of smell. If you must know, I'm here to escort the Bishop back to Rome."

I snorted at his pose of valor and nobility.

"I cannot wait to be rid of this damned island. This place is nothing but a rock sticking out of the sea."

"Really. That's nice. Well it was lovely seeing you again." I turned to leave but his voice stopped me.

"By the way, what ever happened to that girl…What was her name? Brenna? Brigid?" He asked. I turned around and forced a smile onto my face. His smile was cruel and I knew he had heard of Branwain's death.

Maybe it was the fact that I was about to lose all my friends or maybe it was March, but I decided to let my temper get the best of me. I splashed some of Geraint's milk in Scato's face and watched his reaction. He closed his eyes in disbelief and wiped his eyes.

"It's a shame they didn't get you along with the bitch." He said hoarse with anger. I eyed his nose and the crooked spot where I had broken it. I smiled with gritted teeth. I struck my arm towards his face and felt his nose break. I left him howling and bleeding on the ground.

* * *

"Hello love." March said as I entered the room. He was still stretched out on the bed. Once again I wondered what on earth I had done…But then I reminded myself that I had no obligations to Tristan and it was my own body. Geraint was sitting up and looking at me. He cooed happily and held his tiny arms out. 

"Here you go basha." I said scooping up the boy. His dark gold hair was like a crown.

"What does it mean? Basha?" March asked from the bed. I smiled at him.

"It means prince in the old language." I said while helping Geraint discover how to feed from the horn. He quickly took to the taste of goat's milk.

"Would you like to spar?" I asked once Geraint was finished. I hefted him over my shoulder and patted his back all the while praying he wouldn't barf on my tunic.

"Maybe later. Why don't we go on a ride?" He said with his green eyes shining. I wanted to have a sword in my hand, but I could always practice with Tristan or Arthur later. "I've always wanted to see my land from that wall."

"Then let's go." I said and he stood up to dress.

* * *

"Where will you be sent Isolde?" March asked me as we walked along the wall. It was nearly noon and I knew Geraint would be getting hungry again. I thought about it for a moment. When the Arthur went back to Rome and the Romans abandoned Britain, I would have to be assigned to a new post. Galina and I could be sent even farther away from home… 

"I will go where I am told to go." I said plainly. I had no other choice. In the end, I was nothing more than a soldier in the eyes of Rome.

"You could stay here. We would hide you." He said taking my hand. I looked at our joined hands.

"I could never return home. No family…No knights." I said after a moment. I was in my burgundy dress and the sun was stifling. I thought of the worst part. "Arthur would be disappointed."

"You would sacrifice another eight years of your life to-" He began but I cut him off.

"I have known enough men and women in my life to realize that people are like animals in the end. Arthur is one of the few men that has something truly noble in his soul. I would not trade his love for anything." I said, my voice quiet and low. I would give up my very life before losing Arthur's esteem.

March looked away for a moment. We walked in an awkward silence for a while.

"Your knights have arrived." March said as he glanced back. I whipped around to see a trail of horses riding into the gates. I began running back towards the fort. We had walked quite a distance and soon I was panting in the heavy dress. I took four stairs at a time as I bounded towards the inner gates. I ducked in and out of alleyways and into the back of the inner part of the fortress where our quarters were. I paused in the door way of the hall and felt March at my back. The knights were staring at the Bishop with murderous expressions.

"You are free!" The Bishop said with forced joy as Lancelot handed out the last of the rolls of parchment. Discharge papers. Horton shoved past Guinevere to get to Germanius, eager to return to his position of lackey.

"Pelagius, the man who showed me everything good in this world, and now Isolde. There will never be another Isolde. What else will you take from me?" Arthur said in a strained, deadly voice as he stepped near the bishop.

"I loved her! And she's dead now!" Galahad raged half hysterically as Gawain put a warning hand on his chest all the while looking hatefully at Germanius. I looked around at their torn faces. Galina's hair was stringy and pulled at and she had clawed at her face and arms. Bors was sniffling while Dagonet looked damned. Didn't he know what happened wasn't his fault? It wasn't! I chose to follow him. Lancelot was gripping his own paper until his knuckles turned white. I felt something in my stomach squirm guiltily as I watched Tristan quietly drop his paper and stare off into the distance. I had known they would mourn me…But the devotion they were showing made me feel like I never had to be alone again.

"Dead? Arthur, no the girl-" The Bishop said confusedly. Lancelot looked as if he was about to peel the Bishop's skin off his face. March poked my back and I realized that now was the time to step in.

"Hello." I said artlessly as I stepped into view. Alecto looked at me amazedly while Galina started sobbing and threw herself on me before the others could open their mouths. Arthur strode over and embraced me once she let go.

"Isolde…" Gawain's voice was choked. Oh gods… I didn't want them looking at me like I was some spirit… They would want an explanation.

"The woads…They pulled me from the ice." I said gesturing towards March who said nothing. The next few moments were a blur of hugs. Bors squeezed me and lifted me from the ground while Galahad, Gawain and Dagonet all kissed me full on the mouth. Lancelot grasped my shoulders for a moment before hugging me tightly. Tristan came last, but the look on his face did not make me think he simply did not care. He stared me straight into the eyes and put his arms around me. He nearly sagged against me and I saw that there were dark circles under his eyes. I wondered if my "death" had taken sleep from him. I remembered the stance of his shoulders as he watched out over the ice for me. His fingers dug into my back as if to make sure I was really there.

"I'm here. I'm not dead I promise." I said quietly into his hair. I heard March's breath become slightly raspy. But I didn't want to let Tristan go, and so I didn't for a while longer. I stepped back from the dark eyed man and looked around at the knights. Guinevere walked over and embraced March. She clasped my forearm in a greeting as she passed me by. She smiled at me and then nodded to Arthur. She and March began walking away to discuss what I knew to be battle plans.

"I saw you…In the water. You were bleeding and sinking." Dagonet said painfully.

"I was gone for a while…When I came back, I was close to the Saxons. I couldn't call for you. I couldn't move." I said remembering the horror I had felt. I had watched them leave and I had thought I was going to die with a Saxon body over my shoulders. "March pulled me out of the water. He's the cousin of Guinevere."

I saw Arthur and Lancelot relax somewhat. They had both noticed the woads' embrace. Tristan's ear's backed for a moment when he heard me say the woad man's name. His eyes traveled down the dress I was wearing and then back up to the bruise on my neck in the shape of a mouth. I was surprised to see his shoulders slump a bit.

"Geraint. He's in my room." I said to Galina trying to break the awkward silence.

"You need rest. Go to your room and get some sleep. I'll take care of our son." Lancelot said to Galina and I knew she would follow his order. I was always pleased to see Lancelot spend time with his son. He was a surprisingly good father.

"Gods I need a drink." Bors said rubbing his head. Arthur was still quiet and I wondered about what he said of Pelegius…I knew how much Arthur worshipped the Roman who had inscribed ever noble idea into him as a boy. His gaze was still sad, though thankful as he watched me for a moment. It suddenly occurred to me that Arthur needed someone. Man, woman or child, just someone who was like him. Who understood what it was like for him…No matter how much time he spent with us, he was always slightly set apart from us. He was our commander, half Roman. He was a Christian and he wanted a righteous purpose. Burdens and responsibilities of leadership weighed heavily on him…Arthur needed a partner.

"You see Arthur? She is alive! By the grace of God no doubt…" The Bishop's voice faded as Arthur gave him an indescribable look. "Ah yes I almost forgot! As a token of the Holy Father's gratitude, Rome has put the last two Sarmatian knights under your authority. You may consider them your own paid guards."

The Bishop looked hopefully at Arthur, thinking that it would salve his wounds.

Well this was news. Galina looked questioningly at me. Arthur stayed still for a moment before walking off, saying nothing to the Bishop. This was good I decided…For the remaining eight years we would be with Arthur. He could order us to go home. Galina looked relieved. I personally no longer cared where I went. Once the others were gone, I could only hope to at least have a sword in my hand. Being with Arthur was wonderful though. The Bishop strode off angryily with Horton at his heels.

I suddenly found myself starving…My dress was looser on me and I knew that I had lost some weight over the past few weeks. I decided to gain it back. Bors excused himself to go see his family Galina and Lancelot went off to the barracks. Arthur squeezed my shoulder once more before heading back to his quarters. That left Tristan, Galahad, Gawain, Dagonet and me. We silently made our way to the kitchens.

* * *

"You will leave in the morning?" I asked looking at each of them. After collecting a copious amount of food, we had sat down where the auxiliary usually took their meals. 

"Yes." Gawain said clearly.

"At first light." Galahad said. He was already dreaming of it.

"That woad, he was Guinevere's cousin?" Dagonet asked after a moment.

"Yes…Merlin's nephew." I said shortly. I didn't much feel like discussing him with the knights. I could only imagine their feelings about my taking a woad lover. Especially a woad I barely knew.

"He saved you?" Tristan asked peering at me from behind his braids. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the tattoo on my neck seemed to tingle. I nodded.

"He and his sister, Ealasaid." Perhaps they would ask me about the sister now…Not the brother. We all felt uncomfortable for a few moments. It seemed so obvious to me…They all probably had guess about March…Uhhh…

"What happened to my wine?" Galahad asked looking at his empty cup. Gawain looked away and scratched his nose. I smiled as the tension faded away. At that moment in time, I wanted nothing more than to spend time with my knights.

* * *

**Blah. Hope you all liked it…**


	20. Sorry, Just an Author's note

**Author's note-**

Kafan- Yeah I do love reading the reviews! There are a few of you that always leave the funniest reviews(cough Blue Eyes) and I love reading them. I even love reading the one's who complain, even though it's a blow to the ego! I wasn't trying to lump you all together, I'm sorry if I did. I'm not even mad… I'm… Reviewing the reviews I guess. But it annoyed me that some people suddenly hate my character and story because I didn't "follow the rules".

Jade Hunter- Thank you and thank you again. I couldn't have said it better.

**NOTE-** I am not tryin to start the WAR OF THE REVIEWS so don't get pissy! I like reviews… Keep em coming even if they are negative. I'll just …review you back! I'm fond of arguing…


	21. Dark Kin

Hey kids…Sorry..Wow its been a month. I have been ridiculously busy… I hope I can make it up to all of you! I'm sorry if this chapter is just crazy… I got the idea randomly and I just ran with it. As far as the legend goes, yes I'm aware that I'm just stretching it farther and farther. As far as everything else goes, I'm pretty historically accurate. I hope you enjoy….

BlueEyesAtNight- You should win a number one fan award… You made me laugh sooo hard with that last review…Wow… ahhaha

Empress Orchid- Sweet! I'm sooo glad its your favorite!

Jenn- Awesome… I didn't want her to be ordinary!

Raynach Silvermoon- It got deleted… That was like losing my first born son or something… I wanted to cry! I'm sorry!

Everyone else! I'm def. not mad. At all… I promise! I mean you can leave me the meanest reviews ever, as long as it makes sense…Not just cause you don't like something that happened though. But keep reviewing! Bad or Good!

PS Gorlois, Igerne/Igraine's first hubby, is also called Hoel. Annnnd Gwyar is another variation of Anna/Morgause…And Modrod is an old, old variation of Morgan. Soo…Yes. Any who. I decided that if old Jerry Bruckheimer could fuck with the myth, so could I. So I changed some of the family relations and such.

* * *

We stayed in the yard until the sun swam lazily off the sky. Galahad wearily let his head fall onto Gawain's shoulder. He was almost exhausted by the idea of freedom. I stood up and kissed the top of his head. Before I had even left the yard, I felt Tristan follow me. Once I was out of view of the bar, I stopped and waited for him. He peered at me through haphazard strands of hair with dark eyes. I reached forward and pulled a piece of hair off his high collared tunic.

"You smell. You should bathe tonight; I doubt you'll have the chance again until you reach home." I said absently. I couldn't help but feel like I had wronged him some how.

"You're dress in dirty." He said scratching at a stain on the shoulder of my dress.

"I'll wash it tomorrow probably." I said lightly. There was a moment's pause. It was the first time in all my recollection that Tristan and I had resorted to awkward, meaningless conversation.

"Will you be leaving in the morning?" I asked.

"First light." He said looking up at the sky. He looked back down at me and cocked his head to the side. "My last night."

"March." I said thinking of my green eyed woad. Tristan nodded somberly, conceding the victory to March.

"Jols! Get Arthur!" My head snapped upwards as I heard Lancelot's voice shoot through the night air. He stood on the wall half turned towards the north. I hiked up my dress and took the stairs two at a time. The wind slapped at my face as my eyes raked over the sight in front of me. At first I thought that the earth was aflame, and then I realized that I was staring at dozens upon dozens of campfires. I squinted into the darkness to stare at the dark shapes moving around, but the cold feeling that had spread to my toes and fingers told me what I was looking at. An army.

"Saxons." Tristan said putting a hand on my shoulder. Galahad, Bors, Dagonet and Gawain flung themselves up the stairs and looked on in horror at the barbarians that littered the clearing. Panicked soldiers and farmers were spreading the word. Guinevere and Arthur pounded up the cobbled steps. Arthur stared in grim disbelief. Some of my comrades sank to the floor in horror. None of the knights could hold Arthur's eyes for very long as he stared at us in question. I could however. I was not a free woman yet, and my place was with Arthur. I would stay with him until my dieing breath.

"Knights, my journey with you must end here." Came Arthur's voice once he realized that he might be alone in this venture. Well, not quite alone I mused as I glanced at Guinevere. I looked at the fierce woman whose cheeks were flushed with something besides the thought of an oncoming battle. Guinevere and Arthur had something in common, and I saw the way in weighed on their shoulders like a stone that must be carried up a mountain. They would do well for each other.

"May God go with you." Arthur said after a moment's shameful pause. Each kind and noble word was like a knife in the heart to each of the knights. They would live to regret their decision I knew. Arthur turned around and began trotting down the stairs. Lancelot shook his head stubbornly and gave an accusatory glare to Guinevere, as if she had coerced Arthur into staying. Lancelot strode off to follow Arthur, and Guinevere followed him.

I did not follow them. They would have their words, but no matter what was said, Arthur had found something worth fighting for. Worth dieing for. I would not interfere. Instead I began mulling over battle plans.

I looked back towards the horde of savages that littered the ground beyond the wall. There were at least seven hundred Saxons. Most of them would be equipped with a shield, some primitive armor, a helmet, a sword and possibly an axe. They would be well fed with the food of ravaged villages. I made a note to myself to arrange to have the food poisoned in the fortress larder should the Saxons break through. There would not be a Roman auxiliary to fight with us tomorrow. Arthur and I would be the two most experience fighters. There would be Jols and a perhaps thirty or so villagers. I looked at Guinevere. I remembered the host of woads that had made their way to the wall with their swords and shields. Three hundred woads would fight with us. We were out numbered at least two to one.

"Isolde." I heard March say as he appeared at my side. His voice brought me back to awareness. Tristan's hand was still on my shoulder and March kept glancing on it. The scout did not budge. "You must come with me to see Arthur."

"Give him a moment's peace will you?" I said with a slight edge to my voice. I was perfectly aware that there were plans that needed to be made.

"No, Isolde. There is something we must do." March said with a slight bit of urgency. I looked curiously at him. I let Tristan's hand slide off my shoulder as I followed my woad.

"What is it?" I asked. I looked behind me only to see the knights following us. They cared little if the woad had wished for privacy. If it concerned Arthur or me, they would be there for it.

"You know that Arthur's mother was one of us?" He said as we walked towards Arthur's quarters. I nodded. I knew only bits and pieces of my leader's heritage.

"Igerne was married once before she took Uther as her husband. She bore him two children. Gwyar and Cador. Gwyar, the eldest, in turn married Lot. Lot and Gwyar had three children. Kaherdin, Yseult, and Modron. They are here." March explained quickly as we made our way to Arthur's rooms. My eyebrows felt like they were hiding somewhere around my forehead.

"Arthur has family? Here?" I scoffed. March shook his head somberly. The lot of us soon found ourselves at Arthur's door. I knocked solidly. Arthur appeared with alert eyes, ready for more bad news.

"There's something you should see Arthur." I said. I wasn't exactly sure how to tell the man that several members of his family were now here.

"What is it?" He said suspiciously. March stepped forward.

"Your kin. From your mother's side." He blurted. We all waited for a response. Arthur's face was slightly pale when he answered.

"Where?"

"Follow me."

* * *

We made our way to the southern gates. Several men and women stood looking around nervously. The passing soldiers and villagers eyed them with distrust. They had no distinguishing marks about them, but there was something different about the way they carried themselves. My eyes were first drawn to a woman who looked to be about my age. The her shimmering dark hair contrasted with her fair skin. She was not a tall woman, and her face was thin and pointed. A narrow nose, lost looking eyes and frowning mouth made for a pretty face. There was something about her… Her face was guarded and sorrowful looking. _Modron_. This was Modron. The niece of Arthur.

An older looking woman with dark, grey streaked hair and a serious expression spotted us. Her eyes found Arthur and she stepped forward.

"Arthur." Her voice was deep and guttural. She carried herself with an air of command as she walked towards him. She reminded me of Arthur to a frightening degree. It suddenly became clear to me what his mother must have looked like… Dark hair, strong features…

Arthur stepped forward with his mouth slightly parted. He quickly closed it.

"You are the son my mother bore to Uther?" The woman asked. She didn't way for him to answer. "Yes, you look much like I remember her. I am Gwyar, of Igerne and Hoel."

Hoel. The husband Igerne left for Uther. Arthur swallowed and I saw a tick in his jaw start. He no doubt felt his mother's shame for her abandonment of her family and people, but he would not tolerate an insult to his father. If it came…

"I am…" My leader faltered. Guinevere touched his arm to encourage him. "It is wonderful to find a sister. I am honored to meet you."

Well done Arthur. Well done. Gwyar stepped forward and embraced him. She stepped back with a smile on her prematurely aged face.

"Our brother Cador will come to see you soon. These are my children Arthur." She said motioning to the three younger people behind her. The dark woman with the sorrowful eyes stepped forward. A thin, young man with the same dark hair and warm mahogany eyes followed.

"Modron is the eldest. Kaherdin is her brother, and then the youngest is Yseult." Gwyar said as each of them stepped forward. All four of the woads carried weapons, but Yseult kept a hand openly on hers. Her expression was defiant, challenging. I raised an eyebrow as she stepped forward and examined us with fiercely pale eyes. Her dark hair was thick and the color of reddish brown leaves in autumn. She held her thin, wiry body in a defensive manner. I restrained myself from whipping out my sword and waving it around just to see how she would react. March nodded at Kaherdin and quickly grasped my hand. I held it for a moment and quickly let go. Kin or no kin, the woads had been our enemies two days prior and this was not the time for coddling.

"Lady, please come to the fortress with me to talk." Arthur said, ever gracious.

"Of course, but we must leave soon. We have plans to make Arthur…" Gwyar said and suddenly the mood became more ominous as we all remember the plague that now resided in front of the wall.

* * *

We soonmade our way to the fortress. Arthur and Gwyar went to Arthur's chambers to plan and make up for lost years, while the others and myself made our way to the yard. We stood around awkwardly for a few moments. Bors, Dagonet, Gawain and Lancelot quickly left to prepare for the morning. Galahad, Tristan and I were stuck with the group of woads. We nodded and introduced ourselves to the woads. March pulled me down next to him and kissed me quickly. Yseult caught sigh of it and looked at him questioningly. She muttered something in their native language. March reddened slightly and snapped something back.

"Yseult." Kaherdin said reproachfully. She sat back coolly and began talking to Guinevere. I stood up and sat between Tristan and Galahad. We fell into easy conversation before Galahad finally stood up to leave. Modron sat quietly across from us. The other's were in a lively conversation, but the three of us sat in a comfortable silence. I felt a sense of comradeship with Modron. The three of us quietly observed each other. Yseult looked over from their conversation after a good while.

"You have a hawk?" She asked the scout. He glanced at her through a shag of dark hair and nodded.

"Did she come to you?" The woman asked eyeing him.

"Yes." He replied.

"Are all Arthur's knights this rude?" Yseult asked Guinevere. Guinevere's ears backed in annoyance.

"I'll return to the camp. Tell mother." Yseult directed at Kaherdin who shook his head wearily. I nearly snorted at her behavior. The girl began walking briskly towards the gates. I heard her snarl something ferocious at Roman soldier who whistled at her, and then she was gone. Modron rolled her eyes after her sister left and I nodded. The girl needed a good beating. Soon Tristan and I stood up and made our back to the barracks. I was about to open the door to my room when he softly turned me around and gave me a nearly chaste kiss. His eyes bored into mine and I was struck with the same unsettled feeling that I had first received when I met him. He walked to his room and entered while I stood there with a heavy feeling somewhere in my chest. Perhaps I owed this last night to him…Then March's face flashed in my mind and I stepped into my own room.

* * *

Ok when I was describing Modron and Kaherdin, I had Eva Green and Orlando Bloom in mind. I saw them in a Kingdom of Heaven trailer and was inspired… Like..AHA! And Yseult…Let the Mary Sue ass kicking begin. Well, she's not a terrible MS…I just couldn't resist though. 


	22. War

Lioness1- Sorry! Sort of…hahaha…

Burnt Alice- Yeah I was in a bit of a funk… I was like "hmm…I can't remember how to write..wow"

Brandy Lebuea- Yeah in the book and legend, before his momma shacked up with Uther, she was married with kids…

Hahah yes! Now you can all hate Yseult instead of Isolde! MUAHAHAH my plan is working…

* * *

I woke sharply as if I had awakened from a nightmare. My body and mind were fully alert, as if they had been preparing all night for the battle that was to come. I didn't open my eyes however. There was no light to stream through my eyelids, and there were no sounds to filter through my door. It could possibly the last moment of peace I knew on earth. Eventually I parted my eyelids and stared through the murky darkness. It was too early to have woken up, but I knew I would not be able to sleep again.

* * *

My feet made no sound as I padded through the hall. I quietly went into Gawain's room and peered at my friend with his mane of tawny hair. I remembered the first few months of wall life. Mine, Galahad and Gawain's trysts… I drew my dagger and walked forward. I gently lifted up a long rope of hair and cut if off. I tied it and tucked it around my finger. I touched his cheek and padded out of his room. Next, I visited Galahad's room. His face was mild and at peace for once… I kissed his brow and began to make myself to Tristan's room. I waited outside his door for several minutes. Tristan woke easily… I mustered my courage and opened the door. I held my breath as I tiptoed to his bed. He was frowning deeply as he slept. I leaned over and kissed his lips gently. I slid my coral ring off my finger and laid it on the small stand near his bed. It was only after I had shut his door that I realized that his breathing had changed when I touched him.

"Mm?" Galina's mumbled as I laid in bed beside her. Geraint snored softly in his rough crib. Galina's skin was pallid and covered with a thin layer of perspiration. She cracked her eyes open and looked at my face. She wound an arm around me and snuggled into me. I suddenly remembered being a child and sharing a bed with my brother. On cold nights we had huddled together in the same fashion. He would be nineteen now. I wondered if he had taken a wife by now. Were my parents still alive? I had often wondered what would have happened had I kept my mouth shut that day we learned of the Romans heading towards our tribe. I was twenty one. I would most certainly have been married…possibly with children. Branwain would be alive…But she never would have learned to love Lionel. And Galina never would have found her knight. And the sweet babe Geraint would never have been born. All things happened for a reason. Good or bad… Eventually when a foggy glow slithered into the room, I stood up and kissed Geraint. Galina and Geraint would ride in a wagon with Vanora and her children for a day. Being too ill to fight, she would need to get away from the conflict. Should Arthur and I be killed, she was to return to Sarmatia with the knights. If we survived, and Galina came back to us, Lancelot would take Geraint back to Sarmatia with him. As much as it pained Galina, she knew it would be better for the child.

* * *

Getting ready for battle was an almost intimate experience. I made sure every weapon I owned was clean and polished. I strung my bow and tested it. Perfect. I sharpened the edges of my shield until they could cleave a man's head in two. My swords were sharpened. I ran a finger over the edges and smiled as my finger came away bloody. The dagger my father had given me was strapped to my thigh. I lovingly put on my harness and gauntlets. I polished my Phrygian helmet and set it next to my shield. I was restless. I ate some bread and crumbly cheese, but I could get nothing else down. I drank an entire flagon of water. I would not do well to get dehydrated. My last act was to smear on my kohl. Over the years it had become part of my routine…Whether I was scouting or not, it comforted me. Plus it unnerved the enemy.

Eventually I could sit there no longer. I gathered what I needed and trekked to the stables. I loaded everything onto my sable colored horse. Kolaksay stayed perfectly still as I saddled him and hauled my shield onto his back. He stood erect and alert. Ready for battle. I proudly patted his nose. Such a horse… He was never nervous or edgy. Fidgety horses me uneasy. I was not surprised to find Jols awake. He handed me a quiver of arrows packed tightly. I secured it to my saddle. Last but not least, I tucked Branwain's crowbill into my saddle. I looked forward to killing as many Saxons as possible with her weapon of choice. I could avenge her no other way. Once I was done, I hopped on to Kolaksay and rode out to the edge of the forest. I waited at the edge for a sign. I was quickly motioned forward by a woad. He tied my stallion to a tree and pointed me to the right. I wandered through a huge encampment of woads until I found Arthur and the woad leaders. I nodded to Modron and Kaherdin as I sat next to my commander. Guinevere smiled grimly at me and March squeezed my shoulder. Gwyar, Merlin and several other woads continued speaking. We ran over the plans once more. Already peasants were out in the fields pouring tar into trenches dug the night before.

The sun would not shine that day. The thick blanket of clouds dulled it down to a dreary white glow. The Saxons would be lining up… Arthur and I finally went back to our horses. I tightened Arthur's Roman armor for him and I shoved my helmet on. Ealasaid suddenly appeared with a small pot of dark blue paste. She motioned for me to remove my helment. She dipped a thin stick into it and drew a symbol on my left cheek. I closed my eyes as she traced the soft tipped stick across my face, trying to picture what she drew. It was a crescent moon and an arrow.

"What does it mean?" I asked her when she stepped down. Her expression was different from when I first met her…it was more sober.

"Death." She said somberly and disappeared into the trees again. I was careful not to smudge the paint as I replaced my helmet. Arthur and I rode out to the top of a hill overlooking the soon to be battlefield. The Saxons would see us most certainly.

"Isolde." Arthur said as we sat atop our mounts. I caught sight of the long train of Romans, villagers and knights leaving the fort. I tore my eyes away and looked at my leader. "You must fight for your own destiny. If you wish to leave, I will not hinder you."

I loved Arthur, really I did, but the man was nearly impossible at times. It was a little late to tell me I could leave. Not that I would have anyways…I decided to ignore him and act like I hadn't heard.

I had been wrong about that morning being my last moment of peace… Here I was, about to fight a nearly hopeless battle, and I had never been calmer. I thought back to Tristan's words to the knights. _We all die. _I had never feared death. Why start now?

* * *

The fires had been lit and the field was covered in a black smoke. I watched as Bors rode away from the caravan and drew his sword. I closed my eyes as I heard the familiar battle cry. There was a pause, and then Arthur returned it. Roman, woad….Whatever other blood ran through his veins, the Sarmatian in him would always call to him. Horse man. Plains. Freedom.

I remained silent. I was saving every bit of energy and thought for what was to come. My heart beat was almost like a drumbeat, rushing me on to war. Bors rode back to the train of people and got back in line. I was disappointed in the men. I could not deny it. I looked to the forest edge where a blood chilling line of ghostlike men and women had appeared. I looked sharply out past the wall where a man was waving a white flag. Arthur motioned towards the gates and quickly, a few men rushed out to open it. Without hesitation, Arthur urged his horse forward. I followed several feet behind. We rode out to where a flaxen haired man stood waiting. This was their king? I stopped Kolaksay next to Arthur. I looked out to the seemingly endless line of Saxons…I was getting excited. I kept a strong grip on my bow incase the white flag was a trick.

"Arthur." The Saxon man said as he watched us. He had long flaxen hair and a beard, both of which had odd sections pieced off with bits of leather. He should have seemed barbaric, but oddly enough, he appeared civilized.

"Where ever I go on this wretched island, I hear your name…Always half whispered, as if you were a…" He paused for a moment "God."

Of course the Saxon would be perturbed by the way common people spoke of Arthur. I fought the urge to stick my nose in the air. This…_King _had probably never heard any Saxon farmer or blacksmith ever praise his name. The dog…

"All I see is flesh and blood." The Saxon said with his cold eyes. He softly pushed his fist against the horse's snout. "No more god that the creature you're sitting upon."

"Speak your terms Saxon." Arthur said, getting impatient. I looked back out towards the Saxons… Yes. Today was a good day. I was getting tired with the Saxon king's talk though… We had ridden out to set rules, not be insulted. The Saxon, apparently, was not tired of talking.

"The Romans have left you. What are you fighting for?" The man said with a degree of interest.

"I fight for a cause beyond yours or Rome's understanding." Arthur said in a low voice as his horse circled Cedric sporadically. I was impressed to see the man did not seem to be made nervous by edgy horse. He made a mock understanding sound. As if he had made some judgment of Arthur…

"And who will be fighting us Arthur? You and…" At this point the man directed his cold gaze to me. A disbelieving smile rose up. "You and a girl? You equip a camp follower with a sword and threaten me with her?"

I stared deeply into the Saxon's eyes for a moment. I saw arrogance and cunning. Reckless, purposeless ambition. Such a man was not made to live. Without a word I turned back to observing the enemy.

The Saxon seemed surprised by our attitudes…

"If you've come to beg a truce," The man said seriously, "You should be on your knees."

Arthur's sword point was at his face in a moment.

"I came to see your face, so that I alone may find you on the battlefield." Arthur said dangerously. He continued. "And it would be good for you to mark my face Saxon. For the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth."

I loved it when Arthur lost his temper. It inspired me.

"Ah." Was all the king said. He seemed to be mulling over the Roman's words. Arthur whipped his horse around and began riding back to the wall. I held back for a moment and turned my face to the Saxon. I paused for a moment, searching for the words.

"Before this day is over, I'm going to kill many of your men." I said assuredly as I gave a slight nod. He waited for more, but I had already ridden off. As we rode up the hill again, I heard the sounds of an army being prepared for battle. Drums, war cries…

We sat there, Arthur and me, waiting for the battle to come to us. Arthur's standard blew in the wind and suddenly I heard hooves beating the ground behind us. I smiled as Lancelot rode up next to Arthur, completely decked out in Sarmatian armor. It did not surprise me too much… He was soon followed by the rest of the men. Bors and Tristan rode up on either side of me. I looked at my scout for any sign that he had awakened when I had gone into his room. I saw nothing. I strained my ears…Another horse. Galina rode up on the other side of Tristan, with all her weapons and armor in place. Arthur said nothing discouraging to the men, and Lancelot said nothing discouraging to Galina. Illness or no illness, she would fight with us. We said nothing to each other for a few moments. Arthur's horse jumped in front of us the moment we heard the Saxon army head towards the gates.

"Knights, the gift of freedom is yours by right." Arthur said looking at each of us. "But the home we seek lies not in some distant land…It's in us! And our actions on this day! If this be our destiny, then so be it! But let history remember, that as free men, we chose to make it so!"

He finished with a battle cry. Each one of us joined in as we slammed our standards into the ground. Tristan strung his bow purposefully and aimed it out towards the Saxons. He let it fly towards a tree on the other side of the wall. He was rewarded with the sound of a distant cry.

The Saxons pooled in through the gates and we rode our horses to a more accessible point. We waited as the sound of deadly arrows filled the air. I heard the hisses of the arrows turn into ominous thuds. We rode forward. Bors gave a crazed battle cry. We must have seemed like demons in the smoke… I swung the crowbill up in an arch and lifted a man off his feet as the point lodged in his jaw. I released his body and rode on. We waited for the second volley of arrows to pass… This time I used my thin, curved blade. Pata glinted in the dim light as I cleaved upwards at a man's face. I rode along the Saxon line for a moment. It was easy and I barely had to move my sword. They fell like stones as Pata sliced across backs, chests and necks. We retreated into the smoke and drew our bows. I notched two at a time each time I reloaded. When no more Saxons stood, we retreated from the smoke.

Minutes passed. The gates opened up again and the entire Saxon army poured in this time. I squinted slightly to see through the thick haze. The Saxon king motioned a familiar man to the left side of the field. This was going quite nicely. I looked closer at the man. Ahhh. The Saxon from the frozen lake. I compared their flaxen hair, and gathered that the two men must be father and son. I was getting impatient. I was ready to fight. I looked towards the hill to see Merlin's men pulling catapults over the hill. A thin line of fire appeared at the wooded edge of the field. Guinevere was about to launch the last volley of arrows.

There were numerous cries as the flaming arrows soared through the air. I shook my head disgustedly. The Saxon pigs did not even realize they were standing on tar. Now that the army was cut in half, Guinevere led her forces against the lesser side. I didn't bother looking for March, I would never be able to pick him out. Merlin signaled for the catapults, and then it was our turn to join the fray. I rode towards the Saxon line while firing as many arrows as possible. I shot off a good eight before it was time to draw the machaira. Kolaksay charged through the Saxon lines while my Greek sword cut through helmets like butter. I rode out leisurely for a while, lopping off heads. This grew tiring, and soon I dismounted. I sheathed the machaira and drew Pata. I also grabbed the shield Llyr had made me. I smiled savagely at the first man to come towards me. I ducked his brute swipe and pounded the shield into his helmeted head. He dropped the sword to cradle his head, but I twisted the shield and slammed the sharp side into his bent neck. I felt a presence behind me and quickly spun around while swinging the bladed edge towards the man. He fell with his throat torn open. I was being pushed towards the line of fire. A nasty looking man with a beard the size of my torso came running at me with a huge axe. I quickly sheathed Pata and waited right until his axe began to descend upon me. At which point I through my entire body into the shield. The sharp edge drove the man to the ground and nearly severed him in half. I looked up just in time to see two men come at me. I drew Pata. I parried the first man's blow while sidestepping the next. I used my sword to fling the first man's sword upwards and I ducked under it. I pierced his back smoothly and then sliced the second man's legs at the knees. My sword went flying through the air as a man bowled into me. I was vaguely aware of the sword landing somewhere beyond the fire as I rolled several feet away. I looked around frantically for a blade. My other sword was with the horse and my shield was pinning another man's corpse to the ground somewhere else. I ripped the dagger sheath from my thigh as the man ran towards me. I went down on one knee and twisted around while unsheathing the small blade. The result was a deep score across the man's belly and a bright shower of blood. I dodged the falling corpse and began making my way to a break in the fire. I would need to find my sword. I quickly stabbed a man directly in my path and grabbed Pata. A familiar sweep of ruddy hair passed me and I recognized Yseult. The girl was fighting a strapping young Saxon with two small blades. He was beating her down with a much larger sword. I leapt forward just as he knocked her to the ground. She looked panicked as he raised his sword but her expression soon changed as his head fell onto her. His body slumped to the ground and she looked at me from my position in front of her. I didn't offer her a hand, for I knew she would not take it. We went our separate ways and soon I found myself back on Arthur's side.

I looked around me at the bloodshed and realized that now was the point when the tide could turn in any direction. I couldn't see Galina anywhere. But I did see something else… Tristan. The scout was watching the Saxon king with interest. No. He was for Arthur to kill…Of course I knew Tristan wouldn't give a damn who else wanted to kill him. He was looking for a challenge. I began fighting my way over to him.

"Find someone else to kill." I said as I shoved my blade through a Saxon's gut. Tristan didn't bother looking at me as he walked towards the king.

"Find your woad Isolde. Leave me to my own battle." He said as if speaking to a child.

"Don't act like a-" I began but he ignored me. I was cut off by an attacker. I snarled angrily at the man and began a vicious assault. Fine. Tristan could do what he wanted. I stayed near anyways. I looked up as the Saxon leader and Tristan began attacking each other. I finished a man off with a swipe to his stomach just as Tristan and the Saxon locked swords. Tristan's face frightened me. It was the face of a man who realized that he was defeated. My swordplay became fiercer as I steered myself towards the duo. Stupid man…Stupid stupid stupid…A severe pain swept across my lower back. I shoved my sword behind me and felt the satisfying thud of a blade lodging into a man. I was struggling to get closer to Tristan. The Saxon pulled out a dagger and stabbed Tristan. Tristan stared disbelievingly at his own blood. They continued fighting until the Saxon slashed at Tristan's legs and knocked him to the ground. He cruelly knocked the edge of a dagger against Tristan's head. The scout made a noise and clutched at his head. He pitifully scrambled away. The Saxon looked with a half amused expression at the scout. Tristan rose to his knees and gripped his sword with trembling arms. He attacked again, only to be knocked aside once more. This time he had to shamefully bend down to pick up his fallen sword. He lunged once more and this time, the Saxon shoved a blade completely through the scout's forearm. Tristan keeled over and then was shoved to the dirt. I knocked the man I was fighting across the skull and charged over to where Tristan lay. I held my sword in front of me as I faced the king. I pushed every bit of emotion away from my mind. Emotions were dangerous. The Saxon raised an eyebrow at me. I quickly tested all my muscles. I had seen the man fight, and I knew I would need to be light on my feet. He swung the large sword at me and I parried the blow. I felt my very bones vibrate painfully with the force of the blow. I did not wait for his next move. Instead I dodged to the left and struck quickly at his side while turning around. He twisted to lessen the blow against his hip, but I still left a bloody gash. His back was now to Tristan. I looked over to where the scout lay and saw Yseult helping him to stand. She leaned over and grabbed his sword. She handed him the sword and guarded him while he gathered his wits. Knowing that my friend was safe, I diverted all my attention to the Saxon before me. I had shed his blood once, but I doubted I could do so again. I would not give up however. My blood was pounding furiously through my veins. I slowed my breathing down to calm my body. I needed to think quick and move quick, not fumble because my body was over working itself. The Saxon was frighteningly quick with the huge sword I discovered as we parried blows for a few moments. I saw an opening at his neck and I took it. It was a feint however and in an instant I found myself staring at the sky with a searing pain across my abdomen. I rolled over to avoid the sword point that crashed down to where my heart had been moments before. I used the momentum to pitch myself upwards. I gave a cry and struck at the Saxon king's blade again and again. I knew I could only wear him down so much, but that didn't keep me from throwing every bit of my strength into it. Inch by inch, he was falling back. But he was strong and larger, and when he threw all his weight into a shove, I could do nothing but fly backwards. Arthur was suddenly in front of me, taking over where I had left off. I got out of his way and put a hand to my stomach. I thanked every god I could think of that it was not deep enough to have spilled my stomach contents. I had been very close to a painful death. I looked around for Galina. She was ill…How long could she last? Arthur could handle himself and I liked to think that Tristan and I had worn down the Saxon man a fair amount. I saw her running towards another side of the field.

"Galina!" I yelled as I followed her. She dodged through an opening in the flames and before I could follow, a man stepped in my pathway. I knocked his sword out of his hands and chopped into his shoulder. He fell down with a wheezing cry. I ran through the opening and looked for dark gold hair. I rubbed at my face. The soot was like hell to my eyes…I saw the Saxon king's son rise up with a crossbow aimed at Lancelot.

"Lancelot!" I cried as soon as I saw it. The knight turned around to find himself faced with the crossbow. Just as the Saxon released it, there was an animal like scream and Galina launched herself upon him. I looked frantically at Lancelot. The bolt had slammed into his shoulder, but it didn't look fatal. Galina slammed her axe into the Saxon's arm and clawed at his face. He swatted her aside easily and I began running towards the two. There were several Saxon's between us however and I could only watch in horror as the Saxon impaled Galina with his sword. I struggled to breath.

"No!" I roared at the same time Lancelot did. Guinevere looked on with a disbelieving expression at what had happened. Lancelot reached the Saxon before I did. The man stood no chance. His sword arm was severed in half by the time I reached them. I shoved Lancelot aside as I raised my sword. I paused however. No. I grabbed his thin beard and began pulling him roughly towards the fire. He howled with pain but he had no choice but to hobble along. I shoved him into the nearest fire and soon he was screaming. He bolted out of the flames, but I was ready. I toyed with the man. He had only one arm and he was covered in burns, but I cared not. He was barely recognizable in a few moments. Lancelot hurtled over in a black fury and swiped the man's head cleanly off his shoulders. I couldn't muster enough concentration to be angry at Lancelot for killing him before I was done. Instead I ran towards Galina. I stopped before I reached her. The sounds of battle faded and the smoke no longer seemed to be so thick. It was a rainy day and I was in the middle of a small village. Branwain. I kept seeing glassy eyes and bloody, matted hair. I remembered her brutally sorrowful whimper when she saw Lionel's body. I sank to my knees and reality rushed back to me. I wasn't staring at my cousin. I was staring at another loved one. The battle was fading around us…Arthur must have killed the king. I barely registered it though… Galina held my hand and smiled. She was staring at something in the sky I couldn't see. It was that place in her mind that she had truly lived in since we left home.

"Geraint." I choked out. She couldn't leave her son. She couldn't leave Lancelot. She couldn't leave _me_.

"I was dieing anyways." She said in a faint voice. "And my baby still has his father. And you."

"I need you." I said as Lancelot kneeled next to us. He cradled her head in his lap and stared helplessly at her. She was bleed profusely. She would not last much longer…

"No Isolde, you have Tristan." She said and turned her eyes towards Lancelot. "Raise him. Promise me."

"I promise." Lancelot half whispered. He stroked her cheek with a bloody thumb.

"I love you." She said as she closed her eyes. I couldn't tell which one of us she was talking to. Perhaps me. Perhaps him. Perhaps both… Her breathing stopped…

I sat back and looked out around me. Galina had not died in the same horror that Branwain had. I was almost ashamed…I had always thought of Galina as somewhat weak…Delicate. She had proven herself to be stronger than I could have imagined. I could accept her death. My calmness surprised me…I couldn't bring myself to leave her however. Neither could Lancelot it seemed…We sat like that for what seemed like years. Guinevere sat nearby and eventually went to find Arthur. The other's found us like that. I was pleased to find that no one else dear to be had been killed. Dagonet squeezed my shoulder. Arthur was anguished with guilt. Stupid Roman… Yseult walked over and stood near Tristan's side. March walked over and knelt next to me. I didn't want to hold his hand, but I didn't have the heart to shake him off. We would have a lot to do over the next few hours…At that moment I just wanted to… I didn't even know what I wanted. I stood up and began walking across the battlefield. Guinevere held March back from coming after me. No one else followed me, and for that I was thankful.

* * *

Blahabla…So much effort. My brain hurts. REVIEW DAMMIT 


	23. Mordred

Pfff… And you all thought I'd kill Tristan. NEVER! Never I say! I'm actually going to make my next story a… well you'll all see. As hint, I'll say this. Of the two chicas, only one with end up with Tristan….Mua-mua-muahahahahha!

OMG FREAKIN GOD! Wowwww the most amazing thing just happened… I freakin found my old story! On our second computer! Well the problem is since I wrote parts on one computer and other parts on this computer, only half the chapters were on the other computer. The other half(on this computer) got deleted when we were cleaning out all the files and crap to make the computer run faster. Confused? Me too. Anyways, I can post the chapter I have(prob. not much fun just to read random chapters like 1…4..6…9..11..), or I can just not post the story at all. Or if you really beg me, I can go in and rewrite the missing chapters. You'd have to give me a week or two to get back into her character and the story and everything, but I just might be able to pull it off! Anyways, just letting yall know

* * *

I wandered away from the knights into the smoke. The field was littered with bodies and I peered at their faces with simple interest. I blinked my eyes to search for tears, but I found none. Nor did my throat feel thick… I felt deep sorrow…It was like a hollow ache in my chest. I found myself meandering towards the tree line. Woads were being bandaged everywhere. Young men and women, even children were scurrying around handing out ointments and bandages. I heard screams from the people who would have lost limbs and such to this battle. I saw two familiar faces. Kaherdin and Modron. I made my way over to the two siblings who were kneeling at a body. Gwyar, with a deep wound to her chest, lay in front of them. I doubted Yseult knew yet.

"Hello Isolde." Modron said without looking up. They were in the armor of their people and they were streaked with woad and blood. I sat down on the ground near them out of respect.

"I am sorry." I said quietly. Modron turned around softly to face me. She nodded and looked over to a shadowy space between the trees. She silently held a hand out and beckoned towards the area. I watched, fascinated, as a small boy stepped forward out of the darkness. His somewhat oversized dark green tunic made him look even smaller than he really was. I gathered that he was around five.

"This is Isolde." Modron said in my tongue as the boy threaded a small brown hand in her hair. He peered at me with large dark eyes. He was her son I realized. His eyes were the same wide shape and his mouth was small and pert like hers. As dark as his eyes were, they were not the same blue. They were blue yes, but there was a cloud of green in them. Modron gently pushed away some of the dark, wavy hair away from his face. Kaherdin was still praying over his mother. "This is my son, Mordred."

I was surprised when the child walked forward and touched my face.

"Isolde." He said and sat by me. I looked at this unusual child and was struck by a feeling I couldn't place. There was something familiar about him…

"Who is his father?" I asked while the boy and I stared at each other. Modron looked at her son with a strange expression and didn't answer.

"Your sister Galina; I saw her fall." Arthur's niece said plainly. I nodded. I felt at ease with this woman, more at ease than I had with anyone for a long time. We were very close in age, but there was something more there…

"She was not my sister." I said as Mordred wiped something off my face.

"You're bleeding." He said looking me straight in the eyes. I remembered the wound to my stomach and shifted slightly. The blood had dried and I felt the sting as air hit the wound again. Modron stood up and motioned for me to follow. Mordred slipped his tiny hand into mine and we followed his mother through the trees. She stopped once we reached a small stream and Mordred handed her a small roll of leather.

"Lie down." She commanded as she unfolded the leather. I obeyed and watched her take out a bone needle and thread. Mordred sat next to me and perched his head on his palms. I couldn't muster the energy to wince as she scrubbed at my stomach.

"I saw you fight from the trees." The boy stated somberly. I smiled at him as Modron began stitching the skin. "You nearly killed the Saxon king."

"Almost…" I said thinking of how close Tristan had come to death.

"Then Yseult helped him get away." Mordred said.

"Yseult does not mean to be so rude." Kaherdin said as he sat down at the edge of the stream. "Mother and father trained Modron to rule our land and me to head our war party. They found no need to discipline Yseult."

"She's spoiled and self-righteous." Modron said flatly as she finished with the stitch. Kaherdin smiled as he trailed his fingers in the water. "She was quite taken with your scout…"

I raised an eyebrow and snorted.

"Really? I thought she was going to try and slap him or something…" I drawled. Mordred traced the tattoo on my neck repeatedly. He paused and looked into my eyes as if he knew something I did not.

"Yseult is… She's taught herself that all men are pigs. She's made a habit of being aggressive towards them." Kaherdin said as if remembering the many times he had witnessed it. His smiled broadened fondly.

"Ahh I see." I said as I stood back up. I put my harness back on, but I didn't bother tightening it. Next to all the half naked woad women with their thin, pale bodies, I felt somewhat brutish. I was drenched in blood, sweat, smoke and dirt. I knew I must have smelled as foul as one of the Saxons I had killed. I looked through the trees in the direction of the battlefield. I had been gone for an hour or two and I would need to go back to help bury Galina. I left Modron, Mordred and Kaherdin there. They would have their own loved one to bury.

* * *

I thought of my friend as I made my way back to the edge of the forest. I could trace the path that I had taken through the field of carnage. I did not want to walk that path again. I knew that Arthur would have taken Galina's body back to the fortress. A rider would have been sent to the caravan to tell the villagers to head back. Geraint would need Lancelot and I. I thought of Galina's words to me years ago back at Luguvalium.

_Put me in a boat and set fire to it. Let me sail east while I burn._

I would find a boat, and we would let Galina sail east.

When I finally reached the fort, Galahad was there to wrap to his arms around me and nearly collapse on me. His quiet tears soaked through my faded dark blue tunic. I returned the embrace for a few minutes. We eventually let go and moved apart.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Arthur laid her on the round table." He said wiping his face roughly. I pulled him to me and kissed his forehead hard.

"Isolde, I love you." He said while I kissed him.

"I know. I love you." I said and walked away. I walked through the fortress and was glad for the silence. The only villagers here were the ones who had stayed; the others had not come back yet. I passed by Dagonet, Bors and Gawain in the yard. They had helped themselves to what brew that had been left behind. I sat next to them for a moment.

"You alright?" Bors asked looking at me concernedly. Their faces were marked with grief. I nodded and tipped back a flagon of the drink. It seared its way down my throat in a comforting manner. I felt alive again. I stood up again and walked to my room with out seeing another face. I was still loaded up with my armor. I flinched as I remember that I had left my poor horse on the battlefield. I quickly shrugged off the thick armor and most of my weapons. I was sore and bruised, but I had much to do before I slept. I put on a nearly black tunic, a sign of my mourning and began to make my way to the battlefield again. I walked a ways into the clearing and waited. A short time later and Kolaksay came to whicker at my side. He gave me a push with his nose as if to tell me to straighten up and get a hold of my emotions. I threw a leg over his back and rode around the battle field until I found my shield. A small dent now marred one of the griffin's wings. I shrugged and slung it across the saddle. I rode back to the fortress and walked Kolaksay into the stables.

"Come on old friend." I said and led him to a stall. I was aware that another person in the stables. I soon realized it was Tristan as I hauled the saddle off my horse. He apparently had finished with his horse for he soon walked over to my stall. I grabbed the bucket outside the stall and stuck my hand into the water. I squeezed out most of the water and began rubbing at the blood that covered the stallion. Tristan merely watched until I was done. I turned to face him when I finished.

"I'll be heading to Sarmatia in a few days time." I said as I made up my mind. We stood there with the stall wall in between us and he looked at me impassively.

"You coming back?" Tristan asked. I could hear his tiredness in his voice. He was covered in blood from his various wounds. I tilted my head as I leaned against the stall so that I could see the side of his head. His ear was nearly sliced in two and there was a huge gash continuing along his head. It was oozing and swollen.

"Yes. I don't know when though. It could be weeks or years." I said deep in thought. He nodded understandingly. He took a thumb and raked it against some crusty blood on my face.

"Come on, I'll sew your head up." I said eyeing his ear. We walked back to my room and he sat on the bed. I made to close the door, but then I thought of March. Leaving the door open, I grabbed a needle, thread and a wet cloth. I sat down on the bed and folded one leg under the other. I wearily leaned against the wall as Tristan laid his head down in my lap. I began picking grime out of the head wound and making sure that it was clean cut. I gently scrubbed at his head and hair. It took me a while to clean the gash, and even longer to get the blood out of his hair. Finally it was clean and I could begin to stitch him up.

"You're lucky he didn't slice off you ear." I said as I began to thread the needle. Before I could finish however, he sat up and turned around to face me.

"I'll listen to you next time." He said seriously.

"Be prepared for me to knock you over the head if you don't." I said evenly.

"Isolde…" He began and I realized what was about to happen. We were covered in blood and gore and the door was wide open, but he was going to kiss me and we were going to make love right there on my bed. It would make for an entirely awkward situation afterwards, one that would lead to many complications. It would hurt March. It would most definitely end my relationship with March. I felt something when I kissed March, while Tristan and I had already defined our relationship. But did I want to do that? Have a…romance with March? When he would want a wife to live with him and bear him children…But…I was saved from choosing when a young woman stood in front of my door.

"Here, let me do it." Yseult said coming forward. She took the needle from my hand and stood in front of Tristan. I thought back to Modron's words about Yseult and Tristan. I realized that her efforts to help were probably aimed towards being near Tristan. I found this to be childish and disgusting. I wondered if the knights looked at my tryst with March the same way… Was that what it was? A stupid young romance? I stood up and left the two alone… I needed to find Galina.

* * *

Aight I'm gonna have to cut it there… Home freakin work… REVIEW! 


	24. An Eastward Wind

Chiefhow- Hello my new bestfriend! I would throw rosepetals at your feet if you would send that story to me! I miss it like a lost pet…Could you send it to would be soooo happy if you did!

* * *

I heard a commotion outside as I stepped into the chamber that housed Arthur's round table. The caravan must have returned. Someone had torn a silk red tapestry off a wall and laid Galina on it. Lancelot was sitting in a chair in front of her. His head was in his hands and I pitied him. I walked forward and looked at my dear friend. My oldest friend… Her eyes had been closed and her face had been wiped clean. She looked peaceful…Angelic… I sat on the arm of his chair and draped myself over his shoulders.

"All these years I've withheld my pity for fallen knights. Yes, we all deserved something better, but we all faced death everyday. I cannot keep myself from wishing it was me this time however…" I said thoughtfully as I stared into space. Lancelot found my hand and squeezed it.

"No one's ever died for me before." He said and I kissed the top of his head.

"Well, don't expect it to happen again." I said wryly. He sat up and pulled me completely in his lap. I wasn't uncomfortable, because there was nothing more to it but the love of a brother and sister.

"She loved me didn't she Isolde?" He asked in a somewhat lost voice.

"She loved you before she ever knew you. You were all she ever wanted." I said honestly.

"And I just threw her away…"

"No. You were sometimes…callous to her, but you could not make yourself love her." I said forcefully. Galina had deserved to be loved, but Lancelot did not deserve to go through life hating himself.

"I did love her though…Just…not the way she needed me to." He said while touching her cheek. "I should have married her."

"Well that time has come and gone Lancelot." I said. "Galina left you a son. You wish to honor her? Then raise him. And no matter how many sons you have, remember that he was your first."

"I will." He said getting composure. His face fell again. "Oh gods Isolde… I can't raise a child!"

"Of course you can." I said patting him on the shoulder absentmindedly.

"Help me." He said desperately. I looked at him as if he was stupid.

"What? Did you think I was just going to give you his crib and say good luck? I'm going to be there for you always."

"Thank you." Lancelot said finally. We sat in silence for a while longer.

"We need to find a boat." I said. Lancelot looked at me curiously. "It's what she wanted… To be burned like that."

He nodded and stood up. He went to get a pot of water and some cloth, while I went to find a dress of hers and some herbs.

* * *

First, I made my way down the hut of the young woman who supplied me with my herbs. I was relieved to find her there.

"You need something for the dead? Here you go…" She said handing me a small sack of various flowers and herbs. I handed her a few coins. "I'll be making these for days…"

"You told me once that one day I might need never bother with the stuff you give me anymore…" I said changing the subject. The woman looked at me with piercing hazel eyes.

"The herbs…You take them for to long, and they will do their job _too_ well. A woman's body will adapt itself eventually…" She said cryptically. Damnit, couldn't she just answer?

"You mean I could never bear a child?" I asked getting straight to the point. She nodded with a slight smile.

"It's hard to tell really… Some girls can take them for only a few weeks and they will suffer for it for the rest of their lives. Some women have taken them for years upon years and still born a child in their life." She said while continuing to cut up leaves and such. I narrowed my eyes.

"Do you have a habit of leaving that small detail out?" I asked and her smile broadened.

"You girls who come to me… You all say you have a lover but you want no child. You never thought to say for how long." She said. "Of course I tell some of them. But you…I've seen you. Why would a knight need a baby? Your friend, the gold one, she was constantly worried about balancing herself between being a mother and a warrior."

"Women have been doing both for hundreds of years. A woman doesn't have to give up either." I said somewhat defensively.

"Then why did you come to me?" She asked turning towards me. I let my eyes pass over the green strips bound in her thick earthy braids. She couldn't have been a day over twenty five.

"I don't want a child."

"Then why are you complaining? You gave up your scout, why should you care if you can bear a child or not?" She asked with no real force.

"Tristan never wanted children anyways, and what would you know-" This woman was getting under my skin like no other. I was about to lose my calm.

"Oh really? Has he ever told you that he wanted no son or daughter?" She interrupted with a knowing smile and wide eyes. I paused.

"He has made it very clear that he doesn't want to settle down." I said while restraining myself from giving a haughty, victorious smile.

"Yes; perhaps your scout does not want a family and home chaining him to a certain life or place, but like you said, why must anyone be forced to choose between family and the sword?" She said with wisdom. I was at a loss.

"But-"

"Who's to say he never wanted a wife? A woman to go to at night…A woman who was a companion, not a shrew."

"You can't mean-"

"A woman to one day give him children. A son or daughter that might love the same things the mother and father loved. Why would a man need to fear such a family? There are different ways of life. You should know that, nomad." She finished solemnly. She turned back to her table and blade. "Now get out of my house Sarmatian. I have work to do."

I closed my mouth and walked silently out of the hut. I barely paid attention as I made my way to the barracks. I looked at Geraint's empty crib as I walked in Galina's room. Vanora must still have him. I opened up the old, worn chest and pulled out what I would need. I set aside her old worn green dress and laid an old brooch on it. I grabbed her bone comb near it also. I took her soft leather slippers and finally, I grabbed her delicate shift.

* * *

I made my way back to the hall and found Lancelot sewing up the wound to her middle. It was growing dark outside and we would soon have company. I grabbed her comb and a wet rag and began to clean her hair. When her hair was clean and wet I combed it out to dry. Lancelot and I cleaned her face and body and dressed her. We put her in her the pure white shift and Lance fingered it gently as if remembering when he had seen her in for the first time. She had looked like a goddess or an angel. We finished putting the dress on her, but as an afterthought, I left the front of it open to display her shift. Once everything else was taken care of, I set the packet of herbs by her side and Lancelot put two gold coins on her eyes. We left her there and reverently shut the door.

"Where's the baby?" I asked. His eyes looked tired.

"With Guinevere." I nodded. I knew that Guinevere might have a soft spot for the child of Lancelot, but she would never try to replace Galina. We made my way to Arthur's chambers and knocked. He let us in and I saw that they had just finished a meeting of some sort. Merlin, Modron, Mordred, Guinevere, Geraint and Dagonet all sat around Arthur's table. Lancelot took his son in his arms and sat down with him. He looked at Modron for a moment and his face suddenly paled a bit. I looked at my new friend and saw the way the fire illuminated her dark features. Surely Lancelot was not falling in love with another woman already? He had just lost Galina and found Guinevere. No… It was something else I decided as he shot an even more disturbed look at the child next to Modron. I realized that Modron was now the leader of her people. Lancelot shot a perturbed glare at Arthur and then back to the boy as if comparing the two. I examined the boy a little closer…Yes he resembled Arthur, but surely it was just because Mordred's mother was Arthur's niece? I felt a little chilled…

"Guinevere and I will marry in four days time." Arthur said suddenly. Guinevere kept her eyes lowered away from the handsome knight as Arthur made the announcement. Lancelot's jaws clamped together and hi ears backed visibly. He swallowed and regained control of his composure after a moment.

"So soon? Eager are we?" He said with a forced suaveness.

"Many people are going to be angry with the move to join the north and south. Best to unite them while they're still drunk on the victory." Arthur said. Join the people? Oh dear gods…That meant that- "I'll be crowned king."

"Arthur what is this madness?" Lancelot said fierily. "You've saved these people, why can't we all just leave?"

"I've found a purpose for all this Lancelot. They're going to need help rebuilding and strengthening themselves. Lancelot, Isolde, there are more Saxons. More Irish. It isn't over yet." He said trying to make us understand.

"Arthur, I'm under your command for the next eight years. I will not question you. Better here than Rome." I said making it clear that the objections would be from the others, not myself.

"Thank you Isolde." Arthur said with a mournful sincerity. I knew the guilt he would be feeling over Galina's death. Mordred walked swiftly to my side and latched on to my tunic. I absentmindedly stroked his hair.

"Arthur, " I began before he could continue. "I must ask your blessing to return to my family for some time."

He knew I had my reasons. He nodded and I decided to leave them to their meeting. Mordred followed me out of the room and walked beside me, hand still clinging to my tunic. I was exhausted I realized as I trekked to my room. I collapsed on my bed and flung anything off me that made me uncomfortable. Mordred wandered around my room and observed everything. I liked the boy. He was quiet, always taking things in. His tanned skin made his dark blue eyes look bright and fey like. His small fingers traced the griffin on my shield reverently. Eventually as my eyes drooped, he blew out the lamp and left me to my sleep.

* * *

I woke in the morning and immediately called for a bath. I waited longer than usual for the hot water to be brought and I attributed it to the confusion of the past day. I immersed myself in the steaming water and smiled broadly. I thought of Galina and how I would never see here big doe brown eyes again. Tears pooled in my eyes and stung far more than the blistering water I laid in. I allowed myself to shake and cry. Just this once…Never again. I stayed like that for quite some time until finally my mind made my body stop. I pushed down the pain and sat up. I quickly scrubbed at my hair and body, carefully avoiding the stitches on my stomach. I stood up and began drying myself. I heard the door open and I looked to see March in my room. He took in the sight of me and stepped forward. Thinking of the obnoxiousness of Yseult and the words of the witch woman, I nearly shrunk away. I began looking at March in a different light. I had not known him for long, but he made me feel something I had never felt before… A strange tingling in my middle and blushing cheeks. An excitement…Now that I thought of it, I didn't want to go through life like a giddy fool. But he was handsome and amusing and he wanted me… I couldn't think properly. I needed to know what he was to me. And so I let him kiss me. And then I let him lay me on my bed, for I didn't know any other way to tell.

* * *

A while later I laid awake in bed. March was asleep with his head on my shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around me. I felt choked. Too coddled… I froze as my door opened and Tristan and Gawain looked in. They must have known that March had not come in the night before, for they looked surprised to see the woad in my bed. Gawain looked edgily at the sleeping man while Tristan turned away quickly and left my doorway.

"Up!" Gawain roar. March leapt up.

"Isolde, it's time." Gawain said in a much quieter voice. I nodded and put on my burgundy dress quickly. I left my hair down and wild. I didn't care about it. I went to Lancelot's room, only to find him awkwardly trying to clean up Geraint. My nose twitched distastefully as I shoved the helpless father away and took over the operation. We finished and walked side by side to the stables. Dagonet and Galahad had wrapped Galina in the red silk tapestry and gently put her in a wagon. We mounted our horses and made our way to the place where Galina's boat was waiting. It was just Arthur, Geraint, the knights and Guinevere. We all rode silently for a few hours until the coast finally came into view. A local fisherman was waiting for us there with an old boat. Arthur gave the man some gold and we put Galina into the boat. I let the surf lap at my bare feet. A wind blew my hair to the east and I smiled. Galina would reach home before I did. That morning, as I had laid in March's arms, I had decided I would leave that day. I was sorry that I would miss the wedding, but I couldn't fight the strong pull towards my homeland.

"Here lady…" A young girl with windswept hair said as she handed me a bundle of flowers. I smiled softly as I thanked her. I bent next to the rocking boat and scattered the flowers in the boat. We had wrapped her hands around the small satchel of sweet smelling herbs provided by the herb woman. Guinevere held the baby as Lancelot stepped forward and dropped the torch at Galina's feet. We pushed her out to sea as the flames over took the boat. My peace was made with Galina. Now I needed to make it with our families.

* * *

It was mid afternoon when we arrived back at the fortress. I immediately went to my room and threw everything I owned in a bag. I gathered every single one of my weapons and packed my quiver full of arrows; it would be a dangerous journey. Galahad and Gawain entered the room and quietly observed what I was doing. Then they left and I continued. I was not going to be stopped. I carried what I could to the stables and loaded up Kolaksay. Mordred was waiting for me when I returned. He watched me solemnly as I gathered the rest of my things and then disappeared. I finished loading Kolaksay and went to find March. Everything was like a blur. _I was going home_.

"I'm leaving." I said as I found him, Yseult, Kaherdin, Modron, Mordred and some other young woads around a campfire near the edge of the forest. Mordred looked to be in the middle of telling his mother. March blanched and stood up.

"I go to my homeland." I said before he could object. "I need to see my tribe."

"It's long! And dangerous. Please, stay-" He began.

"No." I said with finality. I would end the argument before it began.

"Do not try to stop her." Modron said quietly.

"Would you let anyone tell you never to return to this land?" Kaherdin asked March wisely. March looked around for help. I knew at that moment that I did not love him. It seemed strange to need to come to that realization when I had known him for mere days. But it made it easier.

"I want you to take my son." Modron said while looking into the fire. I kept my face mask like as I waited for her to expand on the issue. She continued to twist a twig in her hands for a moment longer. She tossed the twig in the fire and looked up to me.

"He needs to." Was all she said. I looked at her for a moment longer. Trying to unravel whatever secret she was hiding. I could find nothing in her eyes.

"It will be dangerous." I said quietly. She nodded knowingly. I looked at Mordred. He watched me with his somber face, but I saw the hopefulness in his eyes.

"Get ready." I said after a moment's hesitation. He bolted into the trees and returned moment's later with a small bundle. I nodded a farewell to the group and returned to the fort.

"Jols!' I called out and the man came running. "I need a horse for the boy. Sturdy enough for a trip to Sarmatia."

Jols disappeared for few minutes and reappeared with a pale gray horse. The mare was smaller than the average horse, but sturdy and quick looking. Mordred stepped forward and touched her nose.

"What's her name?" He asked.

"Una." Jols said. "White wave."

The boy walked around to her side and looked at me expectantly. I picked him up and set him in the saddle.

"You know how to ride?" I asked. I didn't have time to teach a child how to ride a horse. Luckily, he nodded. As an afterthought I ducked into the stables and grabbed an old wooden shield. I held it up to his back thoughtfully.

"Mordred, I'm going to put this on Una's back. If I tell you to cover yourself while we are riding, you grab this and wear it on your back." I said looking the child in the eyes. He nodded. I couldn't believe I was taking a five year old to Sarmatia.

"I will." He said with intelligent eyes.

"You're bringing the boy with us?" Gawain asked incredulously as he appeared with his loaded horse. Galahad was right behind him.

"Us?"

"You thought you were going off by yourself? Ha." Galahad said. "I'm going home."

Gawain gave him a warning look.

"I know you'll make me come back eventually…" Galahad mumbled shooting odious looks at Gawain and me. I was somewhat elated that they were coming with us. I missed the way things had used to be…Somewhere along the line, we had drifted apart. Arthur and the others strode over to us.

"Now?" He asked. He had not thought I would leave so soon. And I was taking two of the other knights with me. I nodded. His shoulders sagged a bit. "How long will you be gone?"

"Don't know." I said and Gawain and Galahad shook their heads in agreement. Guinevere stepped forward and handed me a bundle of food. I realized sheepishly that I had forgotten… I smiled gratefully at her.

"Well, at least some of us are escaping this wedding madness." She said wryly. I almost said something about it being one more reason never marry, but I looked at Tristan and held my tongue.

"Stupid. That's what you are. The Romans are gone and the land's being carved up and given away…" Bors said while crossing his arms. "They'll be begging us brave knights to come rule them and eat their food!"

"Gods help us the day you become the lord of anything." I said morbidly. He mumbled something and I grinned.

"Be safe." Dagonet said while squeezing my calf. I was surprised as he pulled me over and embraced me. I decided it was time to leave. I had said too many goodbyes over the past few days. We said farewell and rode out the gates towards the south.

* * *

LALALA! Ok ok… fine have it your way… I'm keeping her relationship with Marchy poo short. Review! 


	25. A Journey East

I'm glad yall like it! Really glad

Chiefhow- Yeah I'm blushing…I'm stupid… Could you send it to cky6akr yeah sorry i had to put a space between "cky6akr" and b/c it keeps erasing the link!

* * *

The weather was foggy and thick the entire ride south. Mordred slept by my side at night for warmth and protection. I didn't mind waking in the mornings to find a child next to me. Galahad and Gawain seemed to like the boy too. They began teaching him how to hold a sword by the fourth night. The boy amazed me… He was different than other children his age. He never feared the dark, he never through tantrums and he spoke clearly and logically. My own brother had been a hassle when he was five, but Mordred seemed content to observe things and sometimes question them. He was now the heir to his mother's position, and I had no doubt that he would one day be a great leader.

* * *

We finally reached the coast and I suddenly wished that Britain was not an island. I hated boats and the sea. The rocking… the trapped feeling. The only sea I liked was the sea of grass that awaited me in Sarmatia. I stayed below deck the entire voyage to Gaul hoping that perhaps that I could sleep through it. I was wrong. Although Gawain and Galahad tried to convince me that the water was merely rough, I was sure that we were in a storm called down by the gods. I didn't eat anything on that damned ship. Thankfully I had Mordred, who sat by my side and held a wet cloth against my forehead. I was the first person off the boat when we landed.

* * *

From there, we traveled east. I had the strange urge to ride east forever. Never stopping…Just riding… East... My father told me there was a great ocean to the east, but I could not imagine it. I felt like I could keep riding eastwards forever, and never see anything but endless plains. Of course we had to cross Gaul, Germania and many other lands before we reached Sarmatia. The skies were clear at night and I could see nothing but the moon and stars. There was such freedom out here on the borders of civilization. I thought about my life and what I would do now that I was practically free… I had to tell my uncle that my cousin was dead. I also had to tell Galina's parents… I would have brought Geraint to show them if I had thought it was safe… I barely felt it was safe for Mordred to be there, much less a small infant. 

"Isolde. Our night to hunt." Galahad said as we began to make camp. It had been two months since we had left Britain and it was our last night together. In the morning, Galahad and Gawain would begin riding south east, while I would head straight east still. It would probably be the last time we saw each other until we were back in Britain. Galahad would finish his journey a week or so, while Gawain's home lay several more weeks off. My own home was a fortnight away. I stood up and looked at the sky; there was an hour or two left before the sky darkened completely. I grabbed my quiver and bow and sword. Galahad did the same and as an afterthought he grabbed our water skins. There was a small river and clump of trees a mile or so to the south we discovered. Galahad immediately shoved his head into the river and drank deeply. We had not seen a river in days and our water supply had been limited. I knelt next to him and did the same after setting aside my weapons. I felt disgusting… I had not bathed in weeks. As if hearing my thoughts, Galahad picked me up and jumped into the river. I nearly yelped as the freezing water enveloped me. It was no deeper than our waists and there was barely a current. I breathed heavily for a moment, trying to overcome the shock of the water. Galahad's cheeks were furiously red from the cold as he smiled at me.

"It's cold." I said plainly.

"You were starting to smell." He said while shaking. I waded to the bank and nearly tore off my clothes. Galahad did the same and we quickly washed off. I let my eyes fall past his stomach and I grinned madly.

"It's cold!" He said defensively while covering himself. "Besides, you should know, remember?"

I promptly tackled him and shoved his head underwater. I held him like that for a moment and shrieked as I felt a hand pull my foot out from under me. Galahad bounded pathetically to the dry land again and threw on his wet clothes.

"I hate you." I said as I shivered in my sopping wet tunic. "Oh I _hate_ you."

"Per-Perhaps it wasn't such a good id-idea." He said while rubbing his arms. I ran into the wooded area and tried to get the blood pumping through my veins. The cold air slapped my face and I mentally cursed Galahad.

"Hurry!" He said catching up to me.

"I can't find a damned animal!" I said as I willed myself to warm up. A flash of brown caught my eye. A deer. I took off after it. Galahad's footsteps started up and traveled to my far left. We would corner it. I felt like a predator…Suddenly the cold no longer mattered. All that mattered was the hunt. My feet sped up and made barely any sound as I followed the deer. The deer, Galahad and I burst from the forest and we were soon growing closer to it. I pulled an arrow from my quiver and set it on the string. The deer and sealed its death when it left the forest. Galahad and I had a hard time keeping up on the uneven footing among the trees, but here, out in the open, we would soon be able to kill it. I was quickly outpacing Galahad, but I didn't care. The sound of my heart pumping furiously filled my ears along with the strange music of the wind. I was almost there. I stopped suddenly while pulling back the string on my arrow. I aimed at the brown figure loping away in front of me. I let the arrow go and I savored the twang of the string. The dear stumbled and feel. Instead of waiting for Galahad, I quickly began walking towards the fallen animal. My shot might not have killed it. I drew my dagger as I neared the deer and looked fro the arrow. It had lodged itself in the shoulder of the deer. The animal was alive and bleeding slowly. I quickly slit its throat. Galahad caught up and looked on with interest.

"Good shot." He said in an approving manner. I looked up. The sun was almost completely hidden and the cold was seeping back into my awareness. We tied the animal's legs together and hooked them with a spear. We jogged back to camp and set the animal down. Gawain whistled.

"That's a big deer." He said appreciatively. Mordred looked on with interest.

"Why are you two wet?" Gawain asked us suspiciously. Galahad looked at me and smiled sheepishly.

"We decided to go swimming. And of course, we made lo-" I looked at Mordred and his bright eyes and decided to hold my tongue.

"Well then…" Gawain said realizing the boy was still there. "Let's eat."

We skinned the deer and cooked all the meat. What we didn't eat, we rubbed down with the block of salt we carried and smoked it over the fire. Later, once Mordred was asleep, I crawled nearby to where Gawain and Galahad slept. I laid between them and smiled faintly.

"Come with me to my tribe and marry me." Gawain said without opening his eyes. I threw at arm around him and yawned.

"Mm… Alright." I said.

"Good then…" He said half asleep. "Of course, Tristan will probably kill me…"

"Nuh…uh…"

"Yes he will. I wouldn't be surprised to find March missing when we get back…" Galahd said from my other side.

"Mad…both of you." I mumbled.

"Stupid girl." Gawain said grouchily as he rolled over. "You've just never seen the way his eyes follow you wherever you go."

I felt goose bumps on my arms for some reason. I held my tongue and pretended to fall asleep although it was a while before sleep found me.

* * *

I kissed both of my friends deeply before we mounted our horses. As an afterthought, as Galahad put his foot in his stirrup, I grabbed fistful of his curly hair and pulled his head backwards until I could see his eyes. 

"You had better come back to Britain." I said with an edge to my voice. Arthur would need us.

"I will." He said honestly. Something had changed in Galahad since the battle…He had matured a bit more. Without another word I mounted my horse and Mordred mounted Una. Galahad and Gawain rode off and I watched them for a moment.

"Ready?" I asked Mordred and he nodded. The boy and I rode for several days without seeing another living creature. On the sixth day, I stopped Kolaksay and held out a hand for Mordred to stop. There was a clump of large Kurgan's ahead of us. I counted at least seven. It must have been a place for a line of old kings… But I had seen something move in between one of the burial mounds… I reached behind me and grabbed my harness and my old helmet. I put them on and checked my weapons. My quiver and bow were in hands reach, and both my swords were loose in their sheaths.

"Put the shield across your back Mordred." I commanded without taking my eyes off the Kurgans. My ears, tuned in for the slightest sound, heard him slip the leather strap across his shoulders. "If something happens, you keep riding. If I don't follow, ride five days east. That is where my tribe should be at this time of the year. If you do not see them, find wood and make camp. Make the biggest fire you can and wait for them to come to you."

He nodded somberly and gripped his reigns even tighter.

"Come." I said as I steered my horse a little towards the south. We would go around the Kurgans as far as we would. I kicked Kolaksay into a gallop and made sure that Mordred stayed close. We had not gotten far when I heard the shouts. I jerked my eyes toward the Kurgans and watched as eight men on horseback materialized from between the mounds and began riding towards us. I felt my blood run cold with fury. These men were worse than animals…They were either grave robbers or bandits or both…

"Keep riding." I commanded quietly. Mordred kept going and I drew my bow. I notched and arrow and waited until the men rode closer. My first arrow killed a man near the front and he fell only to be trampled by those riding behind him. Suddenly two other riders from the group began riding towards Mordred. The other men were quickly catching up to me. I swore and began riding towards Mordred. The boy's horse didn't stand a chance against horses born and bred on the plains of Sarmatia. Thankfully however, Kolaksay had been bred from the lines descending from the horses of the old kings. His hooves pounded furiously against the ground as we caught up to the men chasing Mordred. I notched another arrow to my bow and let it fly. It lodged in one man's rib cage, but he didn't stop. I loaded my bow again, this time taking more care with my aim. This time, the arrow went through the base of his neck and he flew backwards. Kolaksay jumped over his body and continued. Kolaksay was tiring out as the chase stretched on. I had begun to string another arrow when I felt a sharp pain in my left side. I slide my hand around my rib cage and felt the arrow. It was nearly a hand's length into me. I prayed that it hadn't pierced anything important as I ripped it out. Realizing that I was bleeding too heavily to fight for long, I willed my hands to work faster. I loaded the bow and aimed. The man in front of me bunched up his shoulders when he felt the arrow tip pierce his back. He slumped in his saddle and his horse whinnied and slowed down. I wheeled Kolaksay around as fast as I dared and let fly another arrow. It stuck itself in a man's eye and I smiled grimly. I had time to kill one more man with my bow before they began firing their arrows. I flung myself off Kolaksay hoping he had the sense to get out of the line of fire. I was on my feet and darting towards the last four men in an instant. I drew the machaira and slammed it into one man's thigh as I ducked between their horses. He screamed as his leg fell to the ground without the rest of his body. I quickly switched swords. The men tried to turn their horses around to face me. The chaotic turning resulted in two of the horses tripping into each other. I looked on with disgust. These men were too careless. They didn't look after their horses. They should have known their animals would have knocked into each other. I ran forward again with a ducking motion and sliced Pata upwards. The man looked down at his scarlet torso in horror. I turn Pata and gripped it with both hands as I turned to face the man behind me. The blade slammed into his chest up to the hilt. I ripped it free and dodged the spear that was shoved at me. I jumped and grabbed a hold of the mounted bandit's armor. I yanked him down with me and let Pata lodge into his skull with a thud. The last man reared his horse upwards at my back. I dropped my sword and flung my hands over my head. I was knocked into the ground as a horse hoof hammered into my right shoulder. I force of the blow had slammed my teeth into my lower lip. I spat out blood and rolled over. My shoulder was on fire. I wheezed to catch my breath again. I had to get up. The last man had dismounted his horse and was drawing his sword. Get up. Get up Isolde. He was the last one. I needed to kill him, and then I could pass out or sleep or…Get up. I rolled over and used my knees to get up. I looked around for Pata while trying to remain calm. The man's scarred face formed a depraved grin. I tried to move the fingers of my right hand. I was not going to be able to fight with that arm. I drew the machaira with my left hand. I was not terrible with my left arm, but my right was the one I usually relied on. I was woozy. My entire left side was warm and slick with blood from the arrow wound. I stiffened my back and gathered up the last of my strength. I lunged at the man and attacked. I couldn't panic. I couldn't become careless. I fought down the urge to attack the man frantically. That would get me killed for sure. The man feinted and ducked to my right side where my arm hung limply against my side. His sword met empty air as I turned his own ploy against him. I ducked over to his right side and slammed my foot into the side of his knee. He howled and went down to his knees. I brought the machaira up and arced it. His head fell to the ground and rolled out of his helmet.

I sat down and looked in all directions. I was getting cold… My vision had darkened and I couldn't see Mordred in the distance. I held a hand weakly in the air and Kolaksay was at my side in a moment. He went down on his knees and waited for me to get on his back. I pulled myself over the saddle and secured my feet in the stirrups. I laid my head down on his neck and prayed that he remembered the way home.

"Isolde!"

Someone was calling me…I opened my eyes with some difficulty… Mordred was riding next to me on Una.

"Isolde, hold on. It won't be long now…I saw a tribe…We're almost there." He said and he no longer sounded like some otherworldly creature. He was just a scared little boy. A little boy who would be all alone if I died. He was on another continent and he would not survive long with out me. It was enough. I sat up and kept my face blank. Mordred looked at me to see if I was in pain. I ignored the dried blood on my wound as it cracked. My shoulder felt like it had been shattered.

"Where?" I asked in a hoarse voice. I strained my eyes and looked into the distance. I saw a sight that made my heart pump with renewed vigor. Tents. I saw shapes moving in the distance and a few trails of smoke wafting into the fading blue sky. I was home. Something in my bones told me it was my tribe. They say children always recognize their family. Their blood… I knew I was home. I nudged Kolaksay to go as fast as I dared. His pace sped up and I winced as every muscle and bone in my body was jostled. It seemed like hours until we reached the tents… By then the inhabitants were already ready with swords and bows. Of course they were wary of travelers. All Sarmatians were in this day and age. Huns, Romans, raiders… I recognized the faces of my parents. If the blood loss didn't make me pass out, seeing my family was going to. My mother's black hair was streaked with gray but her eyes still shone beautifully. My father's face was deeply lines and his beard was earthy and white. I looked for my brother. He would be nearly nineteen… A pair of blue black eyes caught mine. Marhaus. He was handsome, as was the young man who stood next to him. Arghil looked on with distrust. I saw my father's eyes rake over Kolaksay. Would he recognize the horse he had given his firstborn?

"Who are you and what is your purpose here?" My uncle said stepping forward. He reminded me so much of Branwain. I closed my mouth, ending my nostalgic moment. I reached a hand up to my helmet painfully and pulled it off.

"Not much of a welcome for your niece now is it?" I croaked. My brother yanked me down from my horse and squeezed me. I saw stars as my wound and shoulder were crushed all over again.

"Let go." I wheezed. He obeyed and stepped back with a worried expression. All at once I was surrounded by a crowd of loving family and tribesmen. The rapid movement had reopened the cavern in my left side. I swore as I sagged on my father's chest. I was not going to even have time to greet everyone…

* * *

Hope yall enjoyed! Review 


	26. Gold

**Camreyn**-End? Never!

**Blue Eyes At Night**-Yes…its sad. Everybody has got Galahad whipped.

**Kungfuchick**- Exactly…

**Dw**-don't know… sometimes I think its getting boring but apparently yall don't!

**Medea Smyke**- Yeah I need to work on that… I'm so awful at all this punctuation crap. Not to mention that just ignores my indentations… I'll work on the paragraph thing… I just get carried away!

* * *

My eyes snapped open. I was in a tent. A familiar smelling tent. Dirt, horses, family. Another smell pervaded my senses. Meat. I was starving I noted. I tested my shoulder, moving it slightly. The pain screamed through my veins. It had been reset though. I slide a hand to the side of my torso and felt the wound. It had been cleaned and dressed well. It caused me only a slight amount of discomfort. My legs and back ached from riding for months, but hunger gave me the strength to stand up. The glint of firelight on deep, endless blue green eyes startled me. Mordred was huddled at the end of my bed watching me. I knelt next to him.

"How long?" I asked.

"A few hours. They are feasting." He said and I realized that he felt out of place amongst all these Sarmatians. I held out a hand.

"Come on. You hungry?" He nodded and the old fey like observance appeared on his face again. We stepped into the night and firelight. Everyone looked up and smiled grandly. My parents stood up and walked over to me. My father embraced me gently.

"I have missed you Isolde." He said. It felt good to hear him say my name.

"Papay." I whispered. He passed me to my mother who cried quietly into my hair for a moment. She stepped back and looked at me with tears in her loving brown eyes. There was pride shining in them too.

"You are so beautiful." She said proudly. I smiled. She ran a worn hand over my face. It amazed me that no matter how rough the hands were, a mother's touch seemed as gentle and soothing as if they were silk. My father looked to Mordred who was standing silently with his hand wrapped in my fresh tunic.

"Is he yours?" My father asked while patting the boy's dark head.

"No. His mother asked me to take him with me." I tried not to think of the suspicion that had occurred to me back at the wall and what it would mean if it were true.

"Galina? Branwain?" My mother asked sadly. She knew the answer already and her face fell. I walked back into the tent and looked for my things. They were at the foot of my parents' bed. I knelt by them and took out Galina's sword and Branwain's crowbill. I had left my cousin's sword in Britain with her body. She would want her grave to be marked like her fellow knights. I walked back outside and found my uncle first. I knelt as his feet and held up Branwain's weapon.

"This belonged to Branwain." I said quietly. I prayed he would not ask me how she died. I did not think I could tell them the truth. Thankfully, he nodded and gripped the weapon. My aunt began to weep as Arghil tried to comfort her. No one seemed surprised…I walked over to Galina's parents next. They knew what was coming. Her father pressed the blade against his forehead and prayed. Her mother was not there I noticed. I knew she had passed on.

"Galina bore a son before she died." I said after a moment. The man looked at me and then to Mordred. I shook my head. "He is in Britain, with his father, Lancelot."

He nodded and smiled gratefully at me. I stood back up and went to sit with my family. It was not so much a feast to celebrate my return, as it was to celebrate Sarmatia itself. We would survive no matter what. My brother sat next to me on the thick blanket and squeezed my hand. Another girl sat next to him. She had soft brown hair and a pair of big black eyes. She held a small child in her arms who looked to be around two. I looked questioningly at Marhaus.

"Sister, this is my wife, Euxil and our son Amnartes." He said gesturing towards them. I smiled.

"Would you like to hold him?" Euxil asked while holding her son out to me. I held him with my good arm. He cooed at me and I looked at his pretty black eyes. I wondered if any of my brother's children would have our blue black eyes. They had been a trait of our father's line for generations. Mordred looked at the babe with curiosity and then dismissed him as being of no interest. I handed my nephew back to my new sister-in-law and turned towards large bowls of food in front of me. I had not had Sarmatian food in years and I was starving. Thick meat stew and huge mounds of cheese. I piled every food I could see on my plate and devoted myself to shoving copious amounts into my mouth. I looked over to see Mordred staring doubtfully at the fermented mare's milk.

"Try it. 'S good." I said through a mouthful of beans. Wanting to please me, he tried it. He looked queasy afterwards and I laughed. I gave him a piece of honeycomb to make up for it and he loosened up a bit.

"Would you like to continue you sword lessons tomorrow?" I asked the boy.

"Yes." He said trying to mask his excitement. I ruffled his dark hair and piled more stew on his plate. I knew he had not eaten a hot meal in weeks.

"Your mother and I will make a place for you and the boy to sleep." My father said. Several old friends and family members had come to sit by me long enough to greet me. I was getting tired and full.

"So Isolde!" Arghil said. "Why didn't you bring a husband back with you from the isle?"

"Haha yes! When can I expect a nephew of my own?" Marhaus asked laughing. It seemed the entire world was trying to elbow me into marrying and having children.

"Hm maybe soon." I said lying through my teeth. I was surrounded by my entire family and I didn't feel like being badgered. Mordred looked at me for a moment and then his face went blank again.

"Ah! I want a granddaughter this time! I would like to see another little Isolde running around again." My mother said with a wishful expression.

"Perhaps one day…" I said deciding it was best to destroy any illusions they had of me staying forever. "But I cannot stay here forever. I must return to Arthur in a few weeks."

"The Roman?" My cousin said as if I was stupid. "Isolde, we are your home."

I looked at him. I looked at my entire family. They _were_ my home. But so were the knights. Arthur was my king, my leader. I needed to be there to help raise Geraint. I had a promise to keep… And Modron, Kaherdin and Guinevere had just entered my life. I wanted to know them and be with them more. No. Sarmatia was only part of me. Britain was another part. The last part of me was a part all to myself. It belonged to no land or person.

"This is my home. And Britain is my home. I will not live with out either one. I refuse to." I said firmly. Marhaus put a hand on Arghil shoulder to prevent any further argument.

"Well knight, explain your wounds." Marhaus said lightening the mood.

"Thieves, at the kurgans to the west." I said massaging my sore shoulder.

"How many?" Euxil asked with interest.

"Just eight, but there could be more nearby. The bastards have no shame." I said thinking of the desecration of the kurgans of our forefathers.

"Eight! No wonder you look like Kolaksay ran over you." My father said wryly. The corners of my mouth flipped upwards. My mother tsked and touched my hair.

"You'll need to bath, and then I'll see what I can do with this hair of yours." She said.

"It'll just get ripped and wind torn again." I said though I really didn't mind.

"What am I going to do with you…All men must find wives, and all women must find husbands. How are you going to find a husband if your covered in dirt and blood and you hair is covering your face?" My mother said while hopelessly trying to run her fingers through my hair. Her fingers didn't get very far.

"You can attack me tomorrow Api." I said wearily.

"Tomorrow we will find the bodies of the men you killed. We'll return the gold to the Kurgans." My father said with authority. All the men and young women nodded.

"Goodnight Papay." I said kissing my father on the cheek. I said good bye to everyone else and the Mordred went to my parent's hut. I found my thick, old pallet and set it up. I took off my boots and belt and laid down. Mordred crawled under the blanket with me and I yawned.

"Welcome to Sarmatia Mordred." I said sleepily. His face was turned upwards towards the tent roof.

"It's nice here. Free." He said with his young voice. I smiled.

"No place is free. But this is my home." I said and then I slept.

* * *

In the morning I left Mordred sleeping on my bed. The poor child had not slept on anything but hard ground in two months.

"Good morning." I said to my mother as I sat with her, Euxil and Arghil in front of a small fire. Arghil chucked me a piece of dried meat and my mother handed me slice of sweet tasting cheese. I ate them with relish and looked at their faces.

"Before you leave, daughter, I am making you another tunic." My mother said in a voice that left me no room for argument. She eyed my raggedy blue tunic again. "On second thought, I think I'll make you three."

"As you wish Api." I said finishing my cheese. I hadn't been pampered in years and the only pretty thing I owned was the burgundy dress at the bottom of my saddle bag.

"And a dress. If you are going to go back to your island, you are going to look like a Sarmatian." She added. Euxil nodded.

"We must make her a coat." Euxil said as she stared at my form, mentally measuring and fitting. I eyed Arghil with pleading eyes.

"Come, we should ride out to the kurgans." He said rescuing me. I stood up quickly and ducked back into my family's tent. Mordred was still sleeping peacefully, so I quietly grabbed Pata and my bow. I mad my way back to the makeshift pen where we kept our animals. Kolaksay was grazing contentedly and I was forced to stop and watch him. He was a magnificent animal… But he was nearing his seventeenth year and I had given him a hard life.

"I remember when I gave him to you." My father said as he stood next to me. I was twenty-one, yet as soon as I reach my family, I feel like I am thirteen again. "You were so tiny on his back."

"I fear I've worn him out…" I said wearily. _I_ was worn out. I had lived a hard life for over eight years and I was suddenly faced with the realization that I was going to have to face the next part of my life without my old companion. No matter what land I was called to, Kolaksay was Sarmatian. He deserved the freedom he was offered on the steppes. I looked at the endless plains and tried to imagine what it must look like through his eyes…Heaven. Perhaps, as the legend goes, my horse was a fallen knight. If he had died away from home, who was I to keep him from it in his second life? "I'm going to need a new horse."

The words felt like the final blow to my spirit. The last part of the old Isolde had floated off in the wind that blew around me as soon as I opened my mouth.

"You can take Scosin." My father said pointing towards a pale grey horse. His mane was a tumble of dark and white hair and he looked up when my father said his name. "He's a gelding. 'Bout five years old."

"Thank you father." I said as I held my hand out for the beast to sniff. He smelled my palm for a moment and then licked it. My father said nothing for a moment. He put a huge, worn hand on the back of my head and let his shoulders relax a bit.

"In a few years, you can come back and get a horse sired off Kolaksay." He said as a way of comfort. I smiled at the thought of have a son of Kolaksay for my mount.

"We'll see Papay." I said scratching Scosin behind the ear. I didn't like to look at my new horse as merely a temporary replacement. After a moment we saddled our horses. Father gave me a new saddle as he threw my old one to the side. I looked fondly at the discarded saddle. I had lived in that saddle… Bled in it…Nearly died it in… I raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a new saddle was best. The new one, well my brother's old one, was fairly handsome, being decorated with a bit of green felt. The green would blend in nicely with the land in Britain.

* * *

Arghil, Marhaus, my uncle Colais, and my father's old companion Oponis accompanied us to the bodies of the men who had attacked Mordred and me. We found the bodies, untouched except by scavengers birds, a few miles away from the settlement. The eight bodies were scattered some ways away from the kurgans. We gathered all the gold we could find with the bodies to put back into the graves.

"Dogs." Arghil said as he went through the saddlebags of on man. Their bags were weighed down with gold. I swore as I reached the Kurgans. The careless thieves, in their greed and ignorance, had so sloppily broken into the Kurgans, that the graves had collapsed for the most part.

"How are we supposed to return the gold?" Marhaus asked.

"We don't." Arghil said looking on disgustedly.

"Sacrilege." Colais hissed. Arghil nodded in agreement with his father.

"Well, it's not Sarmatian." Oponis said as she examined a gold plaque. "It's Scythian."

The Scythians were our ancestors too. We couldn't just abandon the graves.

"We'll have to ask the shaman." Oponis said after a moment. My father nodded and turned his horse around.

"First, we'll burn the dead." He said and dismounted.

* * *

Erdim and Lipixios banished everyone from the holy tent for the rest of the day. Erdim, the priestess and shaman of our tribe, was busy consulting the fire with charcoal and bones. Lipixios would be praying to the gods and offering a sacrifice. We weren't sure what exactly to do with the kurgan's and the gold. We couldn't abandon the broken tombs of the Scyths to the elements, and their was no way of getting the gold back to the dead inside the tombs. We went about our business for the rest of the day. That night, Erdim and Lipixios would have an answer for us.

* * *

"Isolde, stay still." My mother said in a callous voice as she raked a comb through my wet hair. Mordred had been exiled from our tent and was being taught how to make a bow with the other men. I longed to be with him. Unfortunately, was being held hostage in our tent by my mother, Oponis and Euxil. Oponis was a battle hardened veteran, and even she agreed that I need to be cleaned up.

"I'm not that ugly-" I protested as the comb ripped through my hair. My mother raised the dagger and cut yet another knot from my hair. I sighed…My hair had just started to be one length before the trip. I would have wisps flying everywhere now…

"Stay still or you'll crack the paste." Euxil said as she dug at my fingernails and toenails with a stick. All three women were hard working Sarmatian women, yet they acted as though they were trying to rescue me from a hideous cocoon of dirt and hair. I was covered from head to toe in cedar paste. I had been washed, but the paste would rid me off any excess hair and skin. I would glow and smell quite nicely.

"Go ahead and peel it off girl." Oponis ordered Euxil. Peel my ass! She _broke_ it off in chunks… I was forced to put all my energy towards not flinching as my arm hairs and such were ripped out with the cursed paste. My eyes were stinging painfully by the time she finished.

"Ow." I said simply. My mother had finished with my hair and Oponis quickly pinched at my eyebrows with two sharpened twigs.

"We'll need to fix this." My mother said touching the faded horse on my leg.

"What's this?" Oponis asked noticing the black marks on my neck. "This is fresh."

My mother eyed it with curiosity.

"One of the knights gave it to me." I said as lightly as I could. It was useless trying to lie to a mother.

"You let a man brand you." She said touching it. Oh gods… I was alarmed to find her, not angry, but _gleeful_.

"No mother." I said calmly.

"What is his name?" She demanded. Euxil eyed me with interest while Oponis looked on with a wry smile.

"My friend? His name is Tristan."

"Friend? Ha!" My mother exclaimed. Her dark eyes widened. "Oh Isolde… He's your lover isn't he?"

I would rather have faced an entire army of Saxons by myself at that moment.

"You're blushing." Oponis said.

"Well, you'll be marrying him of course?" My mother asked hopefully.

I swallowed.

"We…It isn't like that api." I said, struggling to find the words. The three women waited for an explanation.

"Do you like him?" My mother asked.

"Yes."

"Then what is the problem?"

"Mother!"

* * *

My mother eventually gave up on the subject of marriage and ran an expert eye over my body.

"I'll have the first tunic made in a fortnight." She said as I dressed. Marhaus popped his head into the tent.

"Erdim is ready." He said. I pulled my boots on and hurried out of the tent.

We gathered in the holy tent. There was not enough room so the young ones were shunted outside. I kept Mordred by my side however.

"What is to be done?" My father asked the shaman. Erdim's grey hair seemed to float in the orange light. Lipixios looked tired as he stood next to the priestess. His robes hung on him limply as he waited for her to announce their solution.

"The graves of our ancestors cannot be abandoned." Erdim said finally. "Tomorrow, Lipixios and I will do what we can to set the graves right. The gold is to go to the tribe."

Well isn't that convenient. I raised an eyebrow and Erdim caught my eye. She smiled as if she knew that I was thinking.

"Each family will sacrifice a deer to the dead before they receive their share." She added. Well, that would work. It would take a good hunt to find so many deer. The tribe still received the better end of the deal. The gold from _one _of the kurgans would have been enough to go around. But the gold from seven kurgans would give each family enough to buy new tents and at least four horses. There was immediate shuffling in the crowd. That was a good deal of gold. "The family of Angunsl with have the first pick."

My father perked up at his name.

"After all," Lipixios said finally speaking. "It was his daughter who brought the desecrators to justice."

There was a murmur of agreement. They would all get gold. Why not let their cousin and his brood have first picks? Lipixios dumped all the gold onto the dusty ground in front of the fire. Erdim motioned for my family to come forward. I nearly snorted. I had killed eight men and my tribe was being rewarded by the gods. We knelt in front of the gold under Erdim and Lipixios. There was little animosity or greed in our tribe, so no one worried we would take more of our share. I fingered a small gold square that would have adorned the tunic of a king or queen. While Euxil and my mother shuffled through the gold and my father and brother examined an ivory dagger, I absentmindedly picked at a few trinkets. I saw a fist sized gold plaque with a wolf attacking a stag and I decided to take it for my own. Next I saw a small crown garnished with blue glass. It would make a nice present for Guinevere since I missed her wedding. A thin, ornate neck plate caught my eye and I grabbed it. A pair of dangling ear pieces and an ivory comb and I began to stand up. As an after thought I picked up a gold ring. The ring was in the shape of intertwining antlers. I smiled as I thought of Tristan. The ring reminded me of him somehow.

* * *

That night as I laid on my pallet I couldn't sleep. Mordred's quiet, even breathing made me jealous of his sleep. My mind felt like the choppy sea I had crossed to leave Britain. The words of my family and friends swirled through my mind. I kept thinking of the herb woman back at the wall. She was right I had come to realize. All these years I had thought that I needed to choose between being a wife or mother and being a knight. Who's to say I could do it all? If I found the right man, I wouldn't need to settle down. And I could raise my children like a true nomad. My children could grow up loving Sarmatia and serving Arthur. I could spend the rest of my days however I pleased. But did I _want _children? I thought of Geraint's sweet face and how much I enjoyed Mordred's company. The boy looked up to me. It was nice to watch him discover things about life…Like the way he had taken to sword play. And Euxil and Marhaus seemed to be in love with their son. I did my best to empty my head and let sleep overcome me.

* * *

Sooo ….tired…. 


	27. Love?

I'm hoping this will finally get the March/Isolde-haters to be happy again!

* * *

I opened my eyes to see Mordred's dark swirling blue green eyes peering at my own eyes. We had been with my tribe for nearly a fortnight.

"I'm hungry." He said quietly. I cocked an eyebrow at my charge.

"Couldn't you get it yourself?" I asked as I sat up. I peered at the tent flap where a thin shaft of light was shining through. Mordred said nothing as he sat by me with pursed lips.

"I'd have to ask them for it by myself." He said unabashedly. I stood up and put my tunic on and belted it. Mordred stood up and took a hold of my tunic in his small hand. I absentmindedly touched his head.

"I can't go everywhere with you." I said lightly. I smiled teasingly at him. "And what would your mother say?"

"Well, she sent me with you." He said as we walked outside. The fumes from smoking meat stung my eyes. I still wondered why Modron had sent her son with me…

"Hm…yes." I said as I ladled a bit of stew into a bowl for him. I got a large bowl for myself and stared wistfully at it. There wasn't too much bread to be found on the steppes and I longed for a fresh loaf.

"I'm glad." He said looking up at me. I smiled at Mordred and yawned. The boy had grown in the long weeks since we had left his home. His skin was brown from the weeks of riding under the sun and wind chapping, and his wiry woad frame had broadened a bit with new boyhood muscle.

"Do you like it out here?" I asked him as I scraped my bowl clean. I spooned myself some more. I liked being able to fill my clothes a bit more.

"Yes. Will I be a knight one day Isolde?" He asked with a guarded voice. I snorted a bit.

"I never thought the day would come when a woad wished to be a knight…" I said.

"Well, if you train me, I'll be like a knight. So why wouldn't Arthur make me a knight?" Mordred asked. His logic surpassed that of a normal five year old. But, Mordred had never seemed normal to me.

"Ah so now I'm training you?" I said setting aside my bowl.

"You said you would." He said somberly.

"While we were out here that is…" I said wryly. I was just bothering the boy…Of course I would train him.

"And when we get back?" He asked.

"You assume that I'll stay in Britain?"

"Yes." He said giving me a look that said he knew more than he let on.

"Really now…" I said sitting back.

"Mother said that you wouldn't leave Arthur. She said he needed you there for him."

"Ha… Arthur can manage on his own."

"Mother doesn't think so. And you would go back for the other man." Mordred said as he pulled his knees to his chest. Damn it all… Everyone else was shoving that damned man in my face…Must the child do it also?

"What man?" I asked although I already knew.

"Tristan. Well, my aunt Yseult liked him also…Maybe he'll marry her if you don't come back."

I felt the blood drain out of my face. Don't be stupid Isolde. Would Tristan marry? Doubtful. Would he marry some high spirited woad? Never. Should I even care? No.

"Yseult barely met him… I doubt she's going to marry Tristan." I said airily. I wasn't pleased with this conversation.

Mordred said nothing to this. He merely gave me an odd expression and then scooted over to grab a hold of my tunic again. It occurred to me that we had been gone for nearly three months. Any number of things could have happened by now.

"Come on. Let's get you a sword." I said standing up.

Mordred's sword ended up being a stick. So did my own for that matter. I drew a circle with my…twig… and positioned Mordred in the middle.

"You can't always have a huge large area to fight." I said circling him. "Which means you can only push, or be pushed so far. So in the end, you have to fight to win."

Mordred gripped his sword with determination as his small feet moved sideways, never taking his serious eyes off me.

"Come on." I said. He shook his head.

"I won't win." He said.

"True." I said and I went down to my knees. I was now his height. "Now try."

He paused for a moment and then ran at me. He struck first at the wound in my side, but I caught it easily. I smiled amazedly at him.

"Very nice." I said appraisingly.

"I've seen you look for weaknesses." He said quietly. I was suddenly very proud of my boy and his observance.

"Always… Now up. Try again." I said. I tossed him back the stick and readied myself.

"If you can find a weakness… Don't just attack once. Wear your opponent down." I said as the boy circled me again. This was hurting my knees… I was going to have to get someone his own age for him to spar with. We practiced for another hour or so and then I went to find another child. A short girl of about seven who was a third cousin of mine came willingly.

"Toulnis, stay in the circle." I ordered and paired the two off against each other. Now_ that_ was amusing…I chortled as Toulnis whapped Mordred across the leg for the sixth time.

"No no Toulnis, remember the stick is a sword not a whip. But Mordred boy, I'm afraid you'd be quite legless by now." I said as the boy winced and pulled up his pants leg to show a bright red whip mark. He grabbed the stick again and eyed the girl with annoyance. This time, when she went to strike at his legs, he was ready. He slapped the stick down on her arm with all his might and she howled with pain. I smiled wryly as I picked them both up by their tunics.

"Now now, you can always kill each other tomorrow. That's enough for today." I said as I shunted Toulnis into her own tent. Mordred stopped struggling as soon as Toulnis was out of sight. He docilely grabbed my tunic and walked beside me.

"Your mother's going to be jealous when we return." I said eyeing his small frame.

"No." He said simply. "She'll be glad. She says chieftains need many friends."

I paused as I remembered that Modron was now the leader of her tribe. That meant that Mordred, as her only and eldest child was now the heir.

"All the more reason to improve your swordsmanship." I said as we entered my tent.

* * *

That night I snuck out of my tent to lay on the grass under the sky as I had when I was a child. I missed Arthur. I missed him a lot… It wasn't that I missed having a leader…It was that I missed the leader I already had. And I missed Lancelot and his son. Geraint would start moving on his own soon… And Dagonet and Bors would probably be missing me as much as I missed them. I missed Galahad and Gawain and I had been gone from them only a few weeks. I wondered if they missed the others… Yes. I knew the answer to that. I missed Tristan in a way I hadn't thought I would. When I thought of March, I felt nothing but friendship at the memory of his face. It confirmed my suspicion that I had engaged in a meaningless young fling. I didn't regret it really…Why should I? But I wondered what I had given up in its place. I missed Tristan terribly… All the swirling thoughts in my head were driving me crazy… Gawain's words about Tristan's feelings towards me… The herb girl's words about him never saying he didn't want a family…Everyone was pressuring me to find a man to marry… And I was suddenly no longer sure that I didn't want a family. I liked teaching Mordred to fight…I liked holding Geraint, no matter how awkwardly it was sometimes. I didn't even mind the days with Euxil made me hold Amnartes when he wailed at the top of his small lungs.

I banged my head against the soft earth in frustration. Damn it. Damn it all… What would marrying and having children mean? A husband meant nothing… Well the right man wouldn't. If he cared for me, he wouldn't care if I was a knight or not. And children…Well children would mean months of pregnancy spent with a bit more care but aside from that… Sarmatian women had raised children as warriors and queens for hundreds of years. I'd be damned if I couldn't do it too… That all led me back to the question of men. If I wanted a family, who was I going to start one with?

The only logical answer was Tristan. It all came back to Tristan. Tristan would never want to settle down as most men would. He probably wouldn't want _too_ many children scurrying about… And he wouldn't want some apron wearing shrew for a wife either. Tristan loved battle…Could he love a wife who loved it as much as he did? I loved him, so couldn't he love-

I paused and felt quite cold as I realized where my train of thought had just led me. I breathed calmly for several moments before I let myself continue. I loved him. Or did I?

Why was I second guessing myself? I thought back to the time in the bar when I had been asked if I could picture myself settling down with any of the men… I had looked straight at Tristan and said no. Well I couldn't picture myself _settling down_…I couldn't imagine _Tristan_ settling down…But could I think of a time when I could love him? And have a family with him? Yes…

I stood up and darted into my tent. I went to our private store of wine and poured myself a huge cupful. Then I went back outside. Oh gods…I gulped the liquid down with fervor. Oh gods…

A few days later my mother called me into our tent around noon. Her strong arms were bare as she nearly tore the tunic of my body.

"Here. It should fit perfectly." She said. Euxil popped her head in with a gurgling Amnartes in her arms.

"Well let's see it then." Euxil said. Tunic…Ha. The blessed woman had made me a loose tunic of a dark green to replace my other tunic. Along with it, she had made me a pair of dark brown trousers. A fine belt outfitted with two gold stag buckles completed the outfit. I put it on and smiled at my mother.

"It's very nice. Thank you. Both of you." I said looking at both of them. I would need to thank Oponis later…

"Well, let's see if this fits too, before I send Angunsl to find any fur." My mother said as she scooped up a coat. The coat was beautiful, yet unfinished. The cloth was fine and thick as my mother helped me pull it over my head. It was dark blue, with green embroidering around the whole thing. I saw some unfinished parts and I knew my mother had a few days more of finishing it. The three large tabs that closed the front from the chest to the waist were made of a light blue thread. The hems of the coat would be trimmed with a fur of some sort. The whole thing would be beautiful, and warm for the on coming winter.

Euxil sighed with envy.

"Mother this is lovely." I said. I mean it too.

"Well there's more coming. I'm going to be making you a dress soon. Next week Oponis and I are traveling to the south to my sister's tribe. The trader's are always there this time of year. I have enough gold to by silk I think!" She said the last part with motherly pride.

"Oh no mother, a plain dress will do fine, not silk-" I protested.

"Well if it's too expensive I won't bother. But if not, I'll buy it!" She said sternly. "And why shouldn't you have a silk dress? You're my daughter and you are a knight."

"Exactly, mother." I said even though the idea of a silk dress appealed to me. Never in my wildest dreams could I picture myself in a silk dress. "I'm a knight. Not a queen. And I already have a fine dress. I shouldn't dress too nicely-"

"Yes yes I saw the dress Galina made you. It was lovely, but you need a _Sarmatian_ dress. Especially if you are going to marry that knight. How old did you say he was?" She asked.

"I'm going to by something nice too Isolde. All the women are. Even the men are talking about buying new saddles with gold inlay." Euxil said trying to talk me into it.

"And you are Arthur's knight…Arthur the _king_. Who is going to attack a king with a knight in silk?" She asked imperiously.

"Plenty of people will attack a fool who prances around in silk-"

"No one said anything about prancing, just on feast nights-"

"If anyone deserves a silk dress it's my queen-"

"Yes well I saw that crown you took for her-"

"Well if you keep loading gold and silk on me it's not going to make a difference whether I give her one bloody crown-"

"I am making you a dress. And I will make it however I choose." She said with finality. Mordred watched on with huge eyes. I realized that my mother wanted me to remain her daughter. Sarmatian and proud… And if she could give me silk, she would give me silk.

"Thank you mother." I said after a moment. She sniffed and helped me take off the coat.

"I was also thinking of putting those gold squares on-"

"_No_."

Why had she brought Tristan into it? I nearly groaned outloud…She was practically sending me off with a dowry. For the love of the gods…

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed that! Its finally happened! She loves him! 


	28. Silk and Ink

Hi! Sorry about the wait! Been sick!

* * *

Later that evening, I left Mordred with my mother as I went to join my father and the others on a hunt. My father had brought back our own deer that day for the Scythian kurgans, but now we needed fur to trade for the goods we would buy in the south. Mordred handled my departure well. He kept his face blank as I touched his face and went to join the hunt. We would only be gone for a few days, but Mordred was nervous about being alone.

We rode northeast for a day and a night. The weather grew colder ever step we took. I had not hunted sable in years and I had forgotten how damned cold it was. Luckily, this was a short hunt meant only to give our trading a boost. The real sable hunting would begin in a few months in the winter when their coats were longer. We hunted for a day, catching about twenty of the marten's in all. It had been a good hunt, for this time of the year, and I was please when it came time to return home.

Once we were home, the real work began. We had only days to prepare the furs to be trade ready for my mother's journey south. My hands were blistered and sore by the time we finished.

"Lucky runt…" I muttered as I sat next to Mordred. I had just finished seeing my mother, Oponis and Marhaus off. They would be gone for at least a fortnight, as would Euxil and some of the others who had decided to go to Euxil's tribe. It was even farther south and she would be gone longer. The tribe felt empty…Nearly half of it was gone and we seemed only to be a measly few tents perched up on the endless steppes. The others had taken all our wagons and a few of the tents to bring back to goods they brought.

"You'll need a coat soon." I said to Mordred. He only watched me with his dark eyes and said nothing. The weather would turn cold in a matter of months… I had been gone from Britain for over three months. I imagined what the harvest looked like right at that moment… Gods how I wanted bread. I hoped mother would bring some flour back with her. Even the coarse Roman stuff would do.

"I bet they're all getting fat with bread and chicken." I said longingly.

"And fish…" Mordred added.

"Mmm."

"And apples…"

"No more…No more… Do you miss your mother Mordred?" I asked. The look in his eyes said yes.

"You'll take me back to her one day." He said assuredly. I smiled a bit. The boy was always so calm.

"Yes but when? Should we head back before winter, or when spring comes?" I asked. I would need to make up my mind soon, or else we would have no choice but to wait until winter came and passed.

"What is winter like here?" Mordred asked darkly. I smiled.

"Cold…With no stone walls to keep out the wind. But our tents are sturdy enough…" I said. Britain was so small compared to my homeland, but I knew I'd rather spend winter in the confines of the fortress rather than in a tent.

"I'd like to go back before winter…" Mordred said eyeing me to see my reaction.

"Alright. It's settled. We will head back in two moons." I said after a moment's pause. He nodded.

"I'm six now."

"Really? You are growing so fast…If you work hard, you can make a bow before we head back." I said. His eyes lit up and I smiled. Perhaps the bow would not be as… special as my own bow, but it would be better than any British bow. I myself had spent a year drying the wood, shaping it and polishing my bow before I had declared it finished, but we didn't have that much time.

I looked over at the coat my mother had finished lining with fur. It was handsome and would look foreign in Britain. Wearing the clothes she gave me, I would never be mistaken for a native of Britain or a Roman. I was torn between dread and excitement concerning what she would bring back.

* * *

Days turned into weeks on the steppes. The weather cooled as summer ended and finally my mother, brother and cousin returned.

"I think she's preparing to make you a wedding dress…" Arghil muttered into my ear as he helped unload the horde of goods.

"What do you mean?" I asked in an equally low voice as I hefted a bag of felt over my shoulder.

"Red silk…With a nice bit of gold thread…Not to mention some other fine material." He said as he grunted under the heavy load.

"I'm going to look like a fool going back with a load of that. I'll probably have to get another horse just to carry it all…" I said grimly. He sniggered and threw down his bag in front of a distant cousin's tent. Toulnis's mother popped her head out and gave a thank you as she hauled the load inside.

"We'll be heading back in a month." I said as I doled out felt to a few tribesmen. Arghil looked at me sharply.

"Why?" He asked as if there could be no worthy reason to leave Sarmatia. "This is the first time you've been home in almost nine years."

"Nine years…Nine years Arghil. I have another life in Britain. The only life I've known for years. I'm still under Arthur's command. I won't abandon him." I said looking out to where our herd of horses were standing. Kolaksay was trying to shove Scosin out of the group as if he knew that the grey horse had replaced him as my mount. Scosin shook his mane and trotted away arrogantly.

"Arthur…Is he the only reason you return? Or is there more?" Arghil asked knowingly.

"Of course there's more." I said dryly. "I left behind quite a few companions. Sarmatians…Woads…"

"And a lover?"

"Don't pry." I said edgily. Arghil smirked and grabbed another load.

"Isolde! There you are… Your father says you plan on leaving in a month. Come, I'll need to start fitting your dress tonight!" I heard my mother's voice call out.

"Yes mother…"

I soon found myself herded into our tent. Oponis and Marhaus were coerced into helping my mother immediately, and Mordred and my father joined us for the amusement of it.

"Lovely…" I drawled as I stared at my audience.

"One of my cousins helped me start it… I was unsure how to handle the silk…I have never worked with a piece this large…" She said holding it up to me. The silk was a deep crimson with a good amount of gold embroidery already done. The embroidery was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was so delicate and intricate… The silk and the gold were rich and vibrant, and I no longer minded my mother's pestering.

"I'll need to trim some to make it fit you snugly…You've got all that fat; might as well show it off."

"I am not fat." I said stiffly.

"I did not say you were fat…"

"You implied it." I said giving my mother a baleful look. She smiled wryly as she adjusted the silk around my hips and then my shoulders. I hoped that when I was her age, I looked as young as she did.

"Axolde, my daughter is not fat." My father said while fighting to keep the smile from his face.

"I agree." Marhaus said.

"Axolde meant that she had more of a shape than either of us." Oponis said coming to my mother's rescue.

"I'm not _shapely_- Am I?" I asked twisting to look at myself. I had never really paid too much attention to that sort of thing. Not that I was uncaring of my looks, but Galina had always been greedy with the mirror. I had only noticed that I had not been able to share clothes with her for years.

Marhaus snorted while Mordred shook his head in a yes.

"Yes." Oponis answered sonorously.

"Especially since you've been here. When you arrived you looked rather waifish as compared to now." My mother said stepping back to eye the fabric. "It must be my cooking. What do those Romans feed you? Dirt?"

"Less meat. No koumiss…More fruit." I answered while yawning.

"Ha. Animal fodder…" My mother said dismissively.

"Well, at least your knight will be pleased when you return." Marhaus said knowing I would rather he not bring up 'my knight'.

"Hm yes." Mother said. "You left a girl, and you will return a woman. A Sarmatian woman!"

I muttered a few choice words and, my mother pinched my arm.

"When I was in Britain, I longed for a Sarmatian woman… Something to remind me of home." My father said getting a far off look in his eyes. My mother smiled softly at him. The way they had spoken of 'my man' or 'my knight' had meant nothing to me. But the look my mother and father shared made me think of Tristan. I was still accepting the fact that I loved him. Him and his stupid braids. I wondered if he loved me. It was hard to fathom Tristan loving me, but perhaps he did. Would he wait for me? I had taken up with a woad and then left him for months now. Would he have another woman? I doubted he would have an actual _lover_… But there were plenty of women around the fortress ready to spend the night with one of Arthur's men. All the more now that they were heroes… I thought of the possibility. I could not even muster up a jolt of anger or jealousy. I had done the same to him. What right did I have to be angry? If he loved me, no number of loose women would stand in my bloody way however.

"Sarmatian dress or not, he's going to think she's beautiful." Marhaus said while giving me a huge toothy smile.

"Kiss ass." I said simply.

"Don't call your brother an ass of any sort." My mother snapped. I kept from sulking by eyeing my silk happily. Mordred was watching us all with amusement. Somehow I doubted his household was like ours.

* * *

After my mother had finished with me, I managed to escape the tent. I wanted to go for a ride on Kolaksay while I still could, but instead I headed to the shamans' tent.

"Tattoo." I said simply and Lipixios entered another section of the tent to gather what would be needed. He returned with the ink and tools. Erdim had me lie down on an old rug. I pulled up my trouser leg to show her the ghost of a tattoo. Lipixios grounded more black powder into the mix and stirred it.

"Have you any others?" The aged shaman asked me as she touched the tattoo.

"Just one." I said peeling back my hair to show her my neck. It was in no need of a touch up.

"Allow me to mark you." She said. It was odd that I had so few tattoos. I nodded a yes knowing the priestess would listen to her gods. Lipixios left and returned with a piece of felt longer than my arm and nearly as wide. He attended to the tattoo on my leg while Erdim began to cut shapes and swirls into the felt. After a few minutes she held up an intricate net of felt. She eyed it and nodded as if sure that it was as she wanted it. As Lipixios finished with my calf, Erdim put a thin layer of black paste onto the felt. I rolled over and removed everything covering my back. She laid the felt on my back and I shuddered as the cold paste met my skin. I waited patiently for the paste to stain my skin in the shape of the tattoo. Minutes passed and finally she removed it and wiped my skin clean. She laid the felt nearby so I could see what she was putting on my back. I winced as over the next hour as my skin was punctured repeatedly from my mid back to the base of my neck. I felt geometric designs continue on even past my shoulders onto the top of my arms. I eyed the felt with interest. A stag was at the bottom of it all, forming the base. His antlers turned into the sacred tree and sprawled across my shoulder blades. In turn, several of the tree's branches morphed into flames. I was quite pleased with it.

* * *

By the time we were finished, it was dark outside. I made my way to my family tent and excepted a bowl of stew from my father. I nodded to Arghil who had come to eat with us.

"Get married and leave us be." I said in mock annoyance.

"You first." He said smugly.

"Old maid…" My brother whispered.

"Where were you?" Mordred asked while finishing his own bowl. I stood while I ate.

"Getting a tattoo." I said between bites. His eyes ran over my body as if he could see the new addition through my tunic. I pulled my tunic up in the back to expose the tattoo.

"That's a beauty." Arghil said while Marhaus whistled appreciatively.

"Very nice." My father said while mother nodded.

"I want one." Mordred said staring at mine.

"Ask your mother when we go home." I said lowering my tunic. My back was extremely sore.

"I want a Sarmatian tattoo." He said firmly. It amazed me to no end how the boy acted far beyond his age. He was begging me for a tattoo, but in no way did he sound like a whiny child.

"I am not your mother." I said finishing my meal. "I can't just let you get a tattoo…"

Mordred's shoulders sagged slightly.

"Fine." I sighed, but to my surprise his shoulders remained slumped. I walked over and put my hands under his arms. I hauled him up and let him wrap his little legs around me. I handed Arghil my bowl and stepped outside with the boy.

"You miss your mother?" I asked gently. The small head on my right shoulder nodded.

"Are you going to marry Tristan?" He asked in a guarded voice.

"Maybe." I answered feeling hopeful.

"Will you have a baby?"

"Perhaps." Where was this going?

"Will you still love me?" He asked in his still guarded voice. I squeezed him tight.

"Why wouldn't I love you?" I asked surprised. He didn't answer. I scratched his mop of dark hair. I was going to miss having him all to myself when we returned to the island.

* * *

Aight. Finally. Hope I got rid of the errors… My Word isn't a great checker. And plus after a while, all I see is words….I don't recognize errors. REVIEW 


	29. Caerleon

**Samli**- Haha that's cool. I've done that with a few stories myself. Yeah I know what you mean… I actually just put myself in Isolde's shoes. I think about whether I would really do that or not…

**Andrea**- Congrats, you just won a fan award.

**Babaksmiles**- Yay! Someone loves Mordred! He's my favorite character. I'm actually thinking of writing a sequel to this one to include some next generation stuff. Mordred would play a HUGE part obviously to those who know the legends.

**Vintersorg- **muahahahahahaha

**Blue Eyes at Night**- One of the best Depp quotes! Yes and that other ho doesn't have a kickass tattoo like Isolde so that alone makes Isolde better.

Time to go back back back! Back to the hot one! Lalala!

* * *

The time for Mordred and I to return to Britain had come. Autumn would soon be over and the snow would fall across much of the earth. Already the winds whipped against me like a god's frigid breath. In the morning, Mordred and I would start our journey. Euxil and the baby had returned. In the weeks that they were gone, Nart seemed to have grown bigger. I marveled at how quickly a babe could grow. Thinking of Nart made me think of Geraint. Geraint would be well into his second year. The thought of his dark gold hair sent a gale of memories. The loss of Galina seemed more unfair than ever. She should have been there with me. Home in Sarmatia… She should be standing next to me, floating with excitement, ready to return to Lancelot. And Branwain… Branwain should have been there with our family. We should have been planning a wedding for her and Lionel.

I let myself relax as I stared at Kolaksay. I wanted to remember him that way. A stallion, black as night, running on an endless plain. I was going to miss my horse. He was my oldest companion. I couldn't remember going into a battle with out him. But he deserved his rest. He would be happier in Sarmatia. I had no doubt that Scosin would serve me well. The gelding was not as reserved or seasoned as Kolaksay, but he had a feisty quality about him.

"Your mother is convinced you will not return." My father said as he stood next to me.

"I'll be back papay." I said without looking at him.

"I know." He said calmly. My father knew I would come back when I was ready. "You should bring Mordred back with you."

"He loves it here." I said fondly. The boy had seemed at odds with the land at first. Steppes with no forests to disappear into… But he had quickly adjusted to it. He seemed like any Sarmatian boy. He had finished his bow, learned to handle a sword, and improved his swordsmanship.

"You had better finish packing." My father said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. I nodded and turned to go to our tent.

* * *

Knowing that I had no choice but to return, I awoke in the morning with ardor. I was going to join Arthur again. And my new queen. I would see Bors and Dag…Lancelot and the baby. Hopefully I would see Galahad and Gawain unless they hadn't returned yet. And there was Modron and Kaherdin. And Tristan… I felt a mix of dread and excitement. Could I change things between us when I returned?

"Here." My mother said softly as she handed me a large bundle of food. There was enough dried meat and beans to last us for a fortnight or so. Then we would need to hunt. My mother's dark eyes were watery as she held my hand. Arghil was on my other side patting Mordred's leg. Practically the entire tribe was gathered around our two horses, wishing us farewell. Euxil was tearing up as she held her son. Marhaus gave me a look that said he would await my return. My father squeezed my calf in a goodbye. Scosin fidgeted under me. He was excited and read to go. Kolaksay would have been patient…

"I want you to wear your new tunics. And your dress!" My mother said seriously. It was important to her that I looked Sarmatian. I sighed and said my goodbyes. I would be back.

* * *

Without Gawain and Galahad, the journey in between Britain and Sarmatia was desolate. Mordred and I enjoyed each other's company, but the other two had made the trip more bearable. Mordred had been outfitted with a new horse, leaving Una behind. I trusted Jols would not mind loosing a horse in service to the king's kin. The brown stallion suited Mordred fine. He was young and would give many years service to the boy. Days of riding melted into each other. Weeks upon weeks passed as just a blur of starry nights and windblown days. I had never been so pleased to see Gaul. I even managed to board the ship to Britain without too much dread. A few days of seasickness seemed petty compared to the months I had been away. When we docked however, I was truly happy.

"Any news of the king?" I asked a man casually. Not all Britains recognized Arthur as their high king. Apparently this man had grown used to the idea for he answered without a glare.

"He and his court have settled in at Caerleon for the winter." The man answered. Caerleon? That was not far. It was near the western coast…It was an old Roman fort. A magnificent one at that.

"Well." I said looking at Mordred. "I suppose we're heading to Caerleon."

"Isolde…Will mother be there?" He asked as we rode through the city streets.

"I don't know. She could be up north at your home. She has people to lead remember?" I said. People were glancing at my fine coat. The dark blue coat was handsome with its warm sable lining. The pale blue tabs were distinctly foreign. Even Mordred looked different in a new blue tunic.

"You're mother might not recognize you." I said as we laid on the soft earth in a grassy knoll. After a few days riding, we were near Caerleon. We could have ridden through the night and arrived while it was still very dark, but I decided to wait. It had been over seven months since I had set out for Sarmatia. I was almost nervous at the prospect of seeing my companions again. The strange conclusion that I had come to about Tristan was the source of most of my worry. I pushed down my fear. What ever happened, happened. Worrying changed nothing. I would do my part. I would have to leave the rest to Tristan.

* * *

We rode into the gates the next day at noon. Caerleon was a beautiful place. A huge Roman town surrounded by white walls. The surrounding area was dotted with farms and villas. The entire place was situated on a river called the Usk. It was quite a change from Hadrian's wall. I found my way to the largest residence in the city. The high king and queen of Britain were living in a Roman domus. The irony was apparent.

Security wasn't too lax I decided as several armed guards positioned themselves in front of us with their spears at the ready. That wouldn't stop me if I wanted to kill the king. I decided not to tell them that however.

"I am Isolde, one of Arthur's Sarmatian knights." I said with authority. One of the men, a woad I had seen at the great battle, recognized me.

"Let her pass." He said lowering his weapon.

"And the boy?" Another asked.

"He is the son of a queen, Modron. This boy is Arthur's kin." All spears were lowered and they moved out of our way. I continued into a courtyard.

"Isolde!" Jols cried when he saw me. I smiled broadly.

"How have you been?" I asked. He looked at his surroundings and shrugged.

"I go where Arthur goes." He said nonchalantly.

"Speaking of our Roman; where is he?" I asked looking around.

"He, the queen and the others have gone to speak with local chiefs. Old families of power that survived the Roman conquest…" He explained. I nodded.

"Well, is there a place in Caerleon where a knight and her squire might rest?" I asked with mock weariness. Jols smiled.

"Rhedyn!" He called out. "There is plenty of room here. All the chieftains and wealthy men stay at a domus not too far from here. But Dagonet, Tristan and Lancelot still reside with Arthur. Bors has himself an old villa outside the walls."

I nearly laughed. Bors had been right. The Romans had left and provided for us nicely. Several moments passed before a plump red head scurried over.

"Isolde, this is Rhedyn. She is the overseer of all things in the king's home. Rhedyn, this is Isolde, one of Arthur's best knights. And that is Mordred, son of Modron, niece of Arthur." Jols said leaning against a post. Rhedyn, a matronly woman of about thirty, nodded hurriedly.

"Honor to meet you." She said quickly as she wiped her brow. "Come, I'll have rooms prepared."

I was unsure of how to handle this new treatment. The most service I had received at Hadrian's wall was a drawn bath. Even that I had to wait for… Mordred and I were being treated like guests of honor however. She led us to the nicest set of rooms in the residence. This must be where Arthur an Guinevere lived.

"The king's kin stays here." She said as she ushered Mordred into a room. He set his things down and looked around, evidently pleased to see stone walls and a wooden bed. We left him to his new chamber and Rhedyn was off again, leading me to my own room. I smiled as she led me to a wing of rooms. This would be where my comrades slept also. I was led into a room, larger than my old room at the wall. It was by no means extravagant, but it was an upgrade. I smiled in thanks and Rhedyn smiled.

"Will you need anything lady? Food? Bath?" She asked kindly. Ahh…Bath.

"Both." I said with relish. She nodded and left to make arrangements. I tiredly set down my things. It would be hours before the others returned. I looked around. I had a window that looked into the courtyard. My bed was large and comfortable. A chest and a table completed the room. I put most of my belongings in the chest. All my tunics and dresses…My gold… In the corner I propped my shield and bow. On the table, I put my blades. It took me a moment to notice that my walls were painted yellow with a red trim at the top and bottom. I felt like royalty. I laid down on my new bed and spread out. Arthur could be king for as long as he wanted…

A knock startled me. I slid out of bed and opened the door. Rhedyn was carrying a bowl and a large goblet of wine. The bowl was piled with fruit, cheese and bread.

"The baths are near." She said as she closed the door. I tore into my food. Bread had never tasted so good. A man would have had trouble eating all the food packed into the bowl, but I wolfed it down. I drank the last drop of wine and sighed contentedly. It was time to bathe. I would be nice and clean when Arthur and the others returned. I made my way outside of the domus, confident that I could find my way back. I strolled lazily to the baths. There was a separate wing for women. I entered and found it mostly deserted. Most women were out working in fields or markets. A large bath took up a huge room. It was deep enough to come up to my chest. I dipped a toe in and found it to be very warm. I shrugged off my clothes with glee and indulged my frivolous youthfulness. I jumped in the water and practically drowned myself as I shoved my hair underwater. I felt like the water would turn brown from the weeks of dirt and grime. A small pedestal housed soaps and oils.

I scrubbed and soaked. I floated around for a while admiring the old frescoes covering the walls. I forced Tristan from my mind. I needed to prepare myself for the possibility that we may never be more that companions. Unless he had taken up with another woman, there was no reason that he wouldn't be my lover again. At that thought, I felt an ominous feeling that I could not push away. I climbed out of the bath and dried off. I replaced my clothes and left the baths. I hurried back to the domus as soon as I stepped outside. My wet hair did not mix will with the cold air. Once I was inside my room, I took of my fouled green tunic and put on another tunic my mother had made for me. It was a long yellow tunic with slits down the sides. It came down to my calves, giving it an almost dress like quality. I put on my new belt with the gold stag buckles and grabbed my ivory comb. I tugged the item through my hair and wrung it out once more. I wandered out into the halls letting my hair dry. I found the large room that housed the round table. I wondered how many men it had taken to move it… There was a fireplace in the large dining room. I sat down in front of it and turned by back to it to let my hair dry.

* * *

Nearly an hour passed before my hair was dry. I left for my room again. I had barely combed my hair when there was a commotion out in the courtyard. I stuck my head out and saw the entourage. I straightened myself out and put the dangling gold earrings into my newly pierced ears. Kohl lined eyes and I was ready. Over the years I found that putting kohl on was habit forming. I wore it even when I did not need it. I took a deep breath and quelled the nervous feeling in my fingers and toes. Mother had said I looked more like a woman toward the end of my stay in Sarmatia. My skin was darker than ever I knew…And my hair was straight and unevenly cut thanks to battle. But it was more than that she had said… Well, if my face and figure were more _womanly, _I prayed that it was a good thing.

I walked purposefully to the courtyard. I paused in an archway. Arthur was talking with the knights while Kaherdin and Yseult spoke to each other. I felt something in my stomach drop when I was Yseult. I couldn't help the feeling of dread that washed over me. Guinevere was speaking with Jols and suddenly she looked around for something or someone. Jols must have told her I was here. A small figure appeared at my side. Mordred clung to my tunic for a moment before running to Kaherdin. Kaherdin picked up his nephew in surprise and swung him around happily. Everyone watched for a moment before realized what it also entailed. If Mordred was back, so was I. Heads whipped towards the archway where I stood. I strode to Arthur and gave a half mocking half respectful bow. He pulled me to him by his shoulders and embraced me. Guinevere hugged me also. They were the worst royals I decided. No pomp or dignity… Dagonet picked me up and hugged me. If I had been the sort of woman to cry from happiness, that would have been my time to weep. My ribs were bruised by the time I was passed to Lancelot. A barely chaste kiss was given to me before I was shoved on to Bors. I felt like a toy.

"Seven bloody months! Did you forget about us?" He asked annoyed as he squeezed me.

"I had no idea you'd be gone this long." Arthur said as he smiled at me.

"It was nice being home." I said simply. I had nothing to apologize for.

"Well, no more trips for a few years." Guinevere said seriously and I laughed. I was suddenly in front of Tristan. I made sure I didn't stop dead or anything obvious. He had no idea of the conclusion I had come to. I smoothly stepped forward and embraced him. He didn't falter as he wrapped wiry arms around my waist. I couldn't help but hold him tightly though. He didn't seem to mind as he let a hand travel to the back of my head, pressing my head even more into his shoulder. I smelled him and for the first time, I regretted having anything to do with March. I let him go after a moment and stepped back. I wanted to grab him and kiss him. I wanted to tug a braid. I didn't.

"Well you're just a blooming rose." Bors said somehow making the compliment sound lewd as the men looked me up and down. Kaherdin grabbed my forearm and gave me a quick embrace. March, as if appearing from no where, hugged me long and hard. I did not mind embracing him as a friend, but I kept my face lowered to keep him from kissing me. I would need to speak to him later if he still thought I was his woman.

"You look even more beautiful than before." He whispered into my hair. I smiled and squeezed him.

"The two most beautiful women in Britain are here at my home." Arthur said and Guinevere smirked at him. I suddenly noticed a bulging belly.

"Good gods." I said sharply. She rubbed her pregnant stomach proudly.

"Due at the start of spring." Arthur said putting at arm around her. Lancelot's smile was genuinely happy, but I noticed the small flicker of pain. I made sure that my body didn't lock up with tension as Yseult stepped forward and stood at Tristan's side. She moved slightly so that their bodies were touching. He didn't move away. I kept my face pleasant and blank as she leaned her auburn head against his shoulder. A wave of nausea and sorrow hit me. I pushed it down. Stupid girl. What did you expect? I focused my attention on the others. I still had my Roman and my knights. I had realized already that Gawain and Galahad were not back. I hoped they arrived soon. They would understand.

"Eager to get that heir part out of the way?" I asked conversationally.

"They were just eager to do something else." Bors said knowingly.

"Something you've done at least…what, eleven times?" I asked lazily. My stocky comrade smiled proudly. The sky was darkening as evening descended upon us.

"Come, let us have dinner." Arthur said in that calm, authorities voice I had missed. I was glad to be back.

* * *

Whoosh its 2:30 AM. You kids better review... I stayed up late writing for yall. 


	30. Acceptance is hard

Hallo! Yeah I made this chapter extra long! Whoo hoo! Yeah it was real hard to guess what was gonna happen when Isolde got back haha. I hope that the way it plays out isn't to unoriginal. But who knows!

**Blue Eyes At Night**- I like your style…

**Gasolina**- I hope that's a good type of pain ahha

**Witch of Eastwick**- Yay I'm glad you like it!

* * *

We followed Arthur into the residence. We made our way to the large room where the round table was housed. Since it was not just us knights, we did not sit in our normal seats. We all sat crowded near Arthur. I was seated in between Lancelot and Kaherdin, directly across from Tristan. On either side of Tristan sat Yseult and Bors. Yseult laid both hands on Tristan as she leaned in to talk to him. This was going to be hard. I had heard tales of love and heartbreak, but my experience did not seem as grand or beautiful. I wasn't going to waste away or throw myself from a rampart. I just felt something in my chest tighten painfully. I felt a sense of despair. I would not make it obvious. I would not glare at the younger woman. I would not act miserable. I would not push my plate away. I closed my eyes for a moment and gathered every bit of pain. I would deal with it later. I smiled slightly. I was still with my other loved ones. I had not lost them.

"Isolde, when should we expect Galahad and Gawain to return?" Guinevere asked me. I took a large gulp of wine from a plain goblet.

"Oh I haven't seen them for months. We parted ways when we reached Sarmatia." I said sitting back in my seat. We were all full and tired. "Galahad is probably bedding women off war tales…Gawain should be married by now."

"As hard as I try, I cannot imagine Gawain being faithful to one woman." Arthur said shaking his head. Dagonet smiled with his arms crossed. Mordred came and sat in my lap. He laid his head on my collarbone and let an arm fall around my neck while the other held a fistful of my tunic. He was bone tired I could tell.

"Where is Modron?" I asked Kaherdin as I held Mordred.

"She is at our home in the north. She is still adjusting to being the queen." Kaherdin said with a note of sadness. I suspected he was still pained by his mother's death in battle. Lancelot slung an arm around me.

"My son will be pleased to see you." He said charmingly. "He needs a woman in his life."

I snorted. I was to the point where thoughts of Galina brought up memories of happier times. I smiled as I thought of the days we had spent in the south after Geraint's birth.

"Really? I would have thought you were women enough." I said languidly.

"Well compared to you, I suppose I am rather feminine." He parried easily.

"Oh. Are you suggesting that because I don't dally in front a mirror that often, that I am _unwomanly_?" I asked in mock offence.

"Are you suggesting that I dally in front of a mirror?" Lancelot asked equally offended.

"Yes." I said plainly. His smile broadened.

"Good to have you back." Bors said tipping his drink back. "These other halfwits couldn't put on a show like you two."

"Glad to be of service." Lancelot said stretching.

"You've been given a room?" Arthur asked with concern.

"Of course. I feel like a queen." I said smirking at Guinevere. She raised her glass.

"You can have it." She said dryly. "I'm going to eviscerate the next person who tries to coddle me."

"Ah. A queen with child. You must be stifled." I laughed. I may have told myself to act nonchalant, but I was a woman and I couldn't help but pick at Yseult's appearance. Her coarse russet hair was in a thick ropey braid that framed her face. She was in a green tunic that made her look like a nymph. There was nothing repulsive about her to make me feel better. Well, she was a bit too thin in my opinion…

"Well my king. How do you like politics?" I asked Arthur. He grimaced. "What have I missed?"

"Minor skirmishes." Dagonet said.

"We've been trying to convince the kings and chieftains that Arthur is not a threat to their sovereignty." March said wearily.

"Most have accepted it." Arthur said rubbing his temples. "Though some don't seem to grasp that I am here to serve as a warlord. They think I really want to handle their day to day problems and hoard their gold."

"Speaking of… Tomorrow and the day after, many of the leaders will be arriving for a feast in two days. We're going to try and make peace with as many as possible." Guinevere said. I frowned with distaste.

"Arthur, don't you have somewhere to send me? A skirmish or a battle?" I pleaded, only have serious. I knew he would want his strongest allies here for intimidation. Galahad and Gawain would be missed.

"Has poor Isolde not impaled anyone lately?" Lancelot said sadly while tweaking my nose. I narrowed my eyes and backed my ears.

"No. Don't tempt me." I said.

"Nearly five months." Mordred said sleepily. Bors sat back with a smile.

"I've killed probably thirty since you left." He said. I longed for a battle. Something to make me feel useful again. I felt reckless at the moment.

"Well," Mordred said nestling into my shoulder. "She killed a bunch of men before we reached her tribe. She almost died…"

I could tell he had fallen asleep.

"Really now?" Arthur asked no longer joking. I shrugged.

"Just marauders." I said simply.

"Bet you enjoyed that." Guinevere said. I gave a small smile.

"You and Tristan amaze me sometimes." Bors said shaking his head. He, Lancelot, Arthur, Guinevere, and Dagonet all looked slight uncomfortable after that. It was as if they knew something I didn't. Lancelot looked guilty. I kept my face blank. Yseult's semblance changed. Her eyes caught mine for a split second. Her look was not hateful or threatening…Just defiant. She looped her arm with his and I wondered how he could stand it. It was as if she was marking him as her territory. I pretended not to notice. It was childish. What made her think she had more right to him than me? I shook it off and yawned.

"Here, I will take him to his room." Kaherdin said holding out his arms for Mordred. I shook my head.

"I'll do it." I said. We all stood up, ready to retire to our chambers. We all said good night and went our separate ways. I took Mordred to his room and laid him on his bed. To my surprise, he sat straight up and took his shoes off. He appeared to be wide awake.

"I thought you were asleep." I said cupping his chin. Dark green and blue eyes stared guardedly at me.

"Grownups say more when they think you are asleep." He said blankly. I cocked an eyebrow at him. The boy was going to be a brilliant ruler. He seemed to be measuring me also.

"Are you going to cry?" He asked innocently. I smiled. The boy had noticed Yseult and Tristan also.

"No. I'm not going to cry." I said pulling his blanket over him.

"Will you stop loving him?" He asked as he settled in. I kissed his forehead and stood up.

"I'll try." I said and left him to his sleep.

* * *

I strolled back to the wing where the knights were housed. I was glad to see that March was not waiting outside my room. I froze however when I heard a laugh. It was Tristan and Yseult outside one of the doors. Well, I now knew where Tristan's room was. Yseult leaned against the door and looked up at him. I sunk further into the shadows. I would have lost every bit of dignity in me if they had seen me. I would have been humiliated. She put a hand to his cheek and pulled him close to her. Just as their lips met, I turned to see Lancelot stand next to me. He watched with disgust as Tristan opened the door and he and Yseult entered. I felt sick. I wanted nothing more than to make my way out to the courtyard and be physically ill.

"Come." Lancelot said as he pulled me into what I assumed to be his own room. I sat down on his bed and sighed. Lancelot looked into Geraint's crib and stroked his cheek. I stood next to him and looked at the babe. He had grown up so fast.

"He can walk and run now." Lancelot said softly. I fingered a gold curl for a moment.

"He looks so much like her." I whispered. Lancelot sat down on his bed and scrubbed at his face.

"I suppose there's no hiding it from you now." He said sorrowfully. I sat next to him and leaned my head on him.

"How long?" I asked.

"As soon as you were gone, she made it obvious that she fancied him." He began. "Tristan was unresponsive at first, but she was persistent. I don't know when he began to …care for her I suppose. But one day they were suddenly lovers."

I realized I had never said aloud that I loved Tristan. It had seemed that if I actually said it, it would become irreversible. I needed to tell someone though.

"I love him Lancelot." I said plainly. Lancelot pulled me to him and held me.

"It hurts doesn't it?" He asked fiercely. I returned the embrace. I had not realized that he truly loved Guinevere. I felt a new bond with him. I loved Lancelot, but it seemed as thought we now had another thing in common. This sorrow that came with unrequited love. I wondered how much it pained him to see Guinevere married to his oldest friend. His king. She was his queen and now she was bearing his child. "I cannot hate Arthur for loving her too. I cannot even hate him for the fact that she belongs to him. But Isolde, you do not have to accept this. Tristan was yours long before she ever set eyes on him."

I sat back and took a deep breath.

"Is he happy Lancelot?" I asked guardedly.

"He seems happy…But you've been gone, so who knows now." He said.

"Does he love her?" I asked despite the urge to scream.

"I've never heard him say it." Lancelot said stiffly. I felt what he did not say. _No. He never said he loved her. But he lets the girl cling to him and treat him like her husband._

I laughed bitterly.

"I suppose I deserve it. It seems fitting does it not? He once returned to me to find me with a new lover, and now I return to find him with a woman." I took a ragged breath and smiled. "I will do nothing."

"Isolde, don't give up, you have not even-" Lancelot protested.

"I will not interfere with his happiness if he loves her." I said firmly. Lancelot shook his head as if I was mad.

"Lancelot, you love her do you not? Then why don't you woo her? Run away with her?" I asked.

"Because she is happy with Arthur. And because I love Arthur." He said as if he had entertained the idea of confessing his love and acting on it.

"Well I love Tristan." That was the second time I had said it. "And if he is happy, I will let him be."

"Isolde, you belong with him. That girl is like a leach. She clings and is jealous. She constantly bickers with him." Lancelot said heatedly.

"Vanora and Bors fight constantly." I defended. He shook his head.

"No. She's a spoiled child. This isn't love…" He said disgustedly. "It's infatuation. She's a girl who thinks she's a woman. She always runs off angrily and makes him come to her. I don't know why he even tolerates her."

"Whether he loves her or not has nothing to do with his feelings for me." I said firmly. I was ready to end the conversation. "He will come to me if he loves me."

"Not if you act like you don't care. Especially not if you take up with that woad again." Lancelot said crossing his arms.

"I will not take March to bed again." I promised. "But if you try to interfere on my behalf, I swear on everything holy I will castrate you."

Lancelot raised his eyebrows and raised his hands in defeat. We sat in companionable silence for hours like that. I stood up finally. I wanted to be outside.

"Goodnight." I said simply. I stepped outside and shut the door softly. I walked into my own room and put on the beautiful coat my mother had made me. It would be chilly outside. I stepped out into the hall and shut my door. I looked up to see Tristan stepping out of his own room. I wished I did not love him. I wished that I could simply look at him as a close companion as I once had. But it was too hard. I merely nodded and quickly walked down the hall. If he was heading the same way as me, he was walking quietly for I could not hear any footsteps but my own. I stepped out into the cool night air and breathed deeply. I made my way to a room that served as a small armory. I found arrowheads, feathers and rough wooden shafts. I stepped into the large courtyard again and sat on a bench. The moonlight would serve me well. I sat cross legged and laid out the materials. No arrows ever fly as straight as the ones made with your own hands. I pulled out my knife and began smoothing the wood to perfection. It calmed me. I carved each shaft as if it was the only arrow I would have in battle. I could loose my sword, my dagger, my spear and my sheild. I could loose every other arrow but the one I held in my hand. If made improperly, it could cost me my life. But with the right amount of devotion and skill, it would kill an enemy at my discretion.

"Don't sneak." I said flatly without taking my eyes off the task at hand. Tristan's footsteps became slightly more audible as he walked to where I sat. He took a seat at the end of the bench and took a shaft of wood in his hands. I glanced upwards to find him looking at my hands, bloodied and splintered. He took out his own knife and began carving out any offending lumps or imperfections. We didn't speak for a while. We just sat there and enjoyed our morbid pasttime. I wondered if he and Yseult had anything they enjoyed together. I began carving notches into the arrows for the arrowheads and the feathers.

"Nothing better to do in the middle of the night than fletch arrows?" Tristan said several arrows later. I had missed his heavily accented voice. Damned scout with his expressionless face...

"No." I said lightly. I ran a finger over an arrowhead. It was sharp enough to slice my finger tip open. "What about you Tristan? Don't scouts need to sleep?"

I was highly proud of myself. I had managed to keep my voice from being tense or accusing. Afterall, it was his right to love another woman. I was especially proud that I had not added in _Have you nothing better to do either? Don't you have a woad in your bed?_ Yes. Very proud indeed. But that would have been spiteful and childish. But oh so tempting...

Tristan chose to say nothing.

"So there's been little bloodshed?" I asked disappointedly. Not that I relished in death...I just lived for the ethereal feeling that came with battle.

"Not too much. The northernmost woads have been causing trouble. They don't like a half Roman for king. But the other woads say they will take care of it." He paused as he picked up the last arrow. I would have an entire quiver full of arrows now. "Some lords in the south refuse to recognize him."

We would have our work cut out for us over the next few years as we established Arthur.

"Any news of the Saxons?" I asked looking up at the sky. Tristan scratched his beard roughly.

"They're growing in the southeast. Every day they take a few more miles of countryside." His voice was calm and emotionless, but I could sense the worry that lay underneath. Not for himself, but for what it would mean for those he cared about. Arthur had been made high king. There was no turning back now. In a short time he bound himself to the fate of Britain, and with him he bound those who loved him. We could never abandon him. Not now. Not ever.

"When do you suspect he'll send us out?" I asked. I hoped there was a skirmish soon. Tristan shrugged.

"Tristan?" I heard a voice call out. I glanced up quickly. Yseult was standing in one of the archways. Apparently she had dressed in the dark for she was wearing her trousers, but one of Tristan's tunics. I would recognize the dark, colorless tunic anywhere with its signature high collar. I raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing? It's cold out here."

I was only a woman, and my tongue would obey my head for only so long

"Your lady calls." I drawled. He looked at her for a moment as if waiting for her to give a real reason why she had hunted him down.

"I'm fine." He said dismissively. Yseult stood there for a moment looking hurt in an oversized tunic. I nearly laughed when I realized that had I not returned, she would have left him to his nighttime air. But apparently I, _Isolde,_ was not to be trusted.

"I missed you." She said taking a small step forward. She gave him a small, loving smile. She couldn't leave him to himself for a few hours?

"I believe Bors would call you a kept man." I said quietly knowing I was not helping the situation. Yseult couldn't hear me fortunately. Tristan gave me a strange look, one I could not place. He stood up wearily and went to Yseult. She gave me a one last look and frowned slightly before turning back to the scout. I touched the tattoo on my neck. I had something she would never have. The thought consoled me as I gathered my arrows. I suddenly realized how tired I was. I made my way back to my room and packed my quiver tight with arrows. I peeled off my coat and long yellow tunic and climbed into bed. I swore I would not pity myself.

* * *

I woke up at noon the next day. Well...I was _awakened _at noon the next day. Dagonet and Lancelot stood above me.

"You leave us for nearly a year and you want to sleep the day away?" Lancelot scoffed.

"It wasn't a year..." I mumbled. Dagonet scooped me up with ease and set me down on my feet.

"I didn't think it was possible, but you've filled out even more." Lancelot said appreciatively. Suave bastard...I was tired and in my pants and breastband. I turned around to grab my black tunic.

"The sacred tree." Dagonet said simply and I realized they had a full view of my new addition.

"I bet Tristan and Bors don't have one that impressive." Lancelot said with a whistle.

"Have what?" Tristan said poking his head in. We were in a Roman domus, miles away from Hadrian's wall, yet still they seemed to enjoy congregating in my room. Gods above.

"Have a bit of ink this pretty..." Lancelot said turning my back to face Tristan.

"Now that you've all had a look at my love half naked body, may I please dress?" I asked and my voice was all honey and sweetness.

"Lovely indeed." Lancelot said making sure Tristan heard. "Look at that tiny waist! And such ample-"

"Lancelot." I said and this time my voice was dark with foul, violent intentions.

"Perhaps we should leave her to dress." Dagonet said with authority. I heard Tristan scuffle out the door. Lancelot shut the door and turned back to me. I didn't care if they saw me dress or not. We had lived with each other too long to be modest. I dressed and then cracked Lancelot across the jaw. Dagonet gave a tiny smile of amusement.

"What part of _do not interfere_ did you not grasp?" I asked straightening up. Lancelot rubbed his jaw reproachfully.

"Anything but my face." He said while wincing. "I was merely pointing out that you are beautiful. I mean, I don't know what he sees in that girl, but he can't possibly compare the two of you in terms of beauty."

"I would kiss you if you weren't so...so...much like yourself. But she's pretty whether you like her or not. And even if she looked like a hag, that's his business." I said as if speaking to a small child.

"You should be his concern-" Lancelot began.

"You really need to meet my mother. You would get along famously." I said rubbing my temples. "Lancelot, I'm a woman. Nearly an old maid. Let me handle my own affairs."

I left him no room to argue.

"Lancelot won't interfere any longer." Dagonet said putting a warning hand on our charming friend's shoulder. "But should you ever need us to speak to Tristan, we will."

"Thank you." I said and I meant it.

"How about some lunch?" Lancelot said as my stomach grumbled. I opened the door and stepped outside.

"How about some sparring afterwards?" I said with mild interest as we walked down the hall.

"I insist. You've probably lost your edge after months without a sword in your hand." Lancelot said in a far too chipper voice.

I gave him a smile. It was not a comforting look and his smile faded a bit. I may not have killed anyone for some time, but I had spent many an hour practicing in Sarmatia with old knights.

* * *

Lancelot's eyes widened as he ducked the edge of Pata.

"I yeilded ten minutes ago." He panted.

"But then you told me my mother had gone all day and all night." I said innocently.

"I didn't mean with a sword!" My smooth faced friend said over the clash of our blades.

"I know."

"Isolde, leave that alone! I _need_ it!"

"Oh forgive me...I wasn't sure it was there at all."

"Don't you remember that night my sweet? You seemed to be quite fond of it then-"

"That wasn't me Lancelot. That was the old whore in that village-"

"You promised never to bring that up agai-"

"-that turned out to be a ma-"

There was a clang and a painful sounding thud. I smiled victoriously as I held my sword against Lancelot's throat.

"What was that Lionel used to call you? Hecate?" Lancelot said as I helped him up. I smiled remembering Lionel.

"My turn." Guinevere said stepping forward. I took a moment to rest and catch my breath. Guinevere, Lancelot, Dagonet, Arthur, Tristan, Yseult, Kaherdin, Bors, March and I were all in a practice yard. So far I had bested Lancelot, Kaherdin and Arthur. Guinevere stood at the ready in a fine blue tunic.

"Shouldn't you be facing a lesser opponent? Like Lucan?" Kaherdin asked skeptically. I eyed the young woman's large belly.

"Yes, I think we should save a humiliating defeat at Isolde's hands for another time..." Arthur said warily. He was trying to make her take it easy without making her feel like a pet. Gods knows we had seen Vanora go mad during a pregnancy several times... A woman with child was a formidable force.

"Perhaps some other time." I said smoothly as I sheathed my sword. "I need to rest."

In truth I could have gone on for hours. Guinevere saw right through our act, as we all knew she would, but she accepted it and stepped back. She laid a pale hand on her stomach and smiled.

"I think I need a rest too. Both of us..." She said gently. I wondered what it was like to know there was a another person inside of you... Yseult twisted and leaned against Tristan.

"One day..." She said quietly to him. She held his hand against her stomach and he didn't pull away. I didn't have the heart to wish her barren... We all dispersed after a moment and headed to our rooms. The lords and such would be arriving soon. Lancelot did bother hiding the disgusted expression on his face as he passed Yseult.

"I'd love to drown her." He said standing next to me.

"Well I'd love to be sick right now. Unfortunately, I need to go bathe." I said. Dagonet patted me on the shoulder.

* * *

I walked to the baths and sat on the edge of the pool. Guinevere soon appeared and immidiately immersed herself in the water.

"How are you floating?" I asked. I didn't envy her huge belly at that moment. Looking at her, I would have swore she'd sink like a rock.

"Easily... I feel weightless..." She said dreamily. "A rare occurence these days..."

I snorted and slid into the water. I liked having an entire body of water to bathe in at my convenience. There was a slight cough. We both looked to see Yseult stand by the edge.

"Mind if I join you?" She asked politely. I decided that if we became enemies, it would be her fault. Not mine.

"Plenty of water." I said plainly. She nodded and undressed. Guinevere didn't seem to mind the girl's company so I decided she couldn't be all bad. Perhaps she was only intolerable around Tristan...

"We have to wear dresses and look pretty for tomorrow." Guinevere said playfully.

"I cannot wait." I said dryly.

"It is terrible." Yseult said with a shudder. "Half the guests would love nothing more than to gut us alive for supporting Arthur, and the other half spend the whole night trying to force their daughters on the knights."

I laughed.

"A new breed of nobility..." I said highly amused. We had just been freed from our slavery to Rome, and now the men were being offered to mix with highranking families.This was going to be amusing.

* * *

Review...atleast show some thanks for the extra length of the chap! 


	31. Intrigue

Lots of Author notes today kids...

Yes well for those of you who like the story, you should be happy. I'm going to write a sequal about the second half of Arthur's kingship. This where I include more legend. It will be slightly more court like, but still have a lot of woad and Roman and Sarmatian influences. Mordred will play a big part. And there will be several central characters. Since it's going to be about the knight's kids, its going to be from like three or four different perspectives(girls of course...I don't claim to even begin to understand the male thought process). So yes. There will be one main character, and then you will also veer off into several parts of the story that take place in the perspective of three other characters. So yes. Well I suspect I'll be starting that in a few weeks(hint hint).

Wow...Saw batman begins and cillian murphy is HOT. Its going to be hard for me to get rid of March now...sniffle. Oh well...I'm doing this for you guys...

Yes, well I know it seems out of character for Tristan to let a woman hang all over him…But we don't necessarily know what's going on in his mind…And keep in mind that he's not hanging over her too. Well I don't want to give the whole thing away, so just pretend with me for a while. K? And although we all look at Tristan like he's god and he can't fail and so on, he's still human. And perhaps, he is genuinely confused.

And as for Yseult, no, she's not bipolar or insane. But she is different than Isolde in many ways. And other than feeling threatened in the Tristan department, she has no reason to hate Isolde. So the relationship isn't going to be "best-friends-for-life-omg-we're-like-sisters", but I can tell you that it's not going to be a catfight. There might be some sore feelings at the end I tell you… When it's all settled, only one of them can have The Hot One. So…We'll see. Or rather, you will.

* * *

By the time we walked back to the domus, Yseult felt more at ease around me I could tell. I myself was even more convinced that I should not hate her. I never doubted for a moment that I loved Tristan more than anyone ever would, but Yseult was not a bad person. I did not think she would hurt him.

"Isolde!" I heard Mordred's voice cry out as we entered the residence. I looked up to see the boy in his mother's arms. My smile broadened as I made my way to my friend.

"Hello Modron." I said standing in front of the young woman. She was as beautiful as ever with eyes that seemed to take in more than you could imagine.

"Isolde. How was your journey?" She asked as Mordred wound an arm around her hips. The boy was not giddy; he seemed to just be content now that his mother was there. Once again he looked as fey and mysterious as the first time I had seen him.

"It was...something I needed. Mordred enjoyed it as well I hope." I said.

"Yes." She said smiling. "He's been telling me all about it."

I wanted to speak to her more, but it would have to wait.

"Isolde!" I heard March call out. It seemed he was tired of waiting for me to confront the issue. I excused myself and followed him into a small alcove. He put his hands on my shoulder and smiled nervously. He had cut his hair until it fell above his shoulders. I liked it. He tucked a peice of hair behind my ear.

"I've missed you for seven months. But not in the way I should have." He said. I felt my eyes crinkle with mirth. We had been together for only a fortnight or so, but we both felt the need to clear things up with each other.

"We were stupid." I said and he shook his head.

"It was...worthwhile. But we both know where you belong." He said with a knowing grin.

"Well... That time has come and gone I think." I said with my face twisted into a grimace. He shook his head even more and squeezed my shoulders.

"I hope you know I'm not going to disappear." He said straightening up. "I'm going to be around for quite a while. You amuse me, knight."

My face turned serious.

"Yes. Well, you make me feel like a girl." I said austerely. "And at my age, I need that."

We both smiled at the last part. I wasn't old, but I felt like it.

"He won't be long in coming." March said and I knew who he was referring too. "Don't argue."

I closed my mouth.

"You see that man there?" He said twisting me around and pointing to a man surrounded by several seasoned warriors. He was grim looking with dark hair and a close beard. He was speaking to Modron in what seemed to be a cordial, yet intense manner.

"Yes...Who is he?" I asked.

"Uriens." March said in a low voice. "He's captivated by Modron."

"Uriens...He's one of the malcontents?"

"Mm hm. With the Romans gone now, he's been reclaiming old ancesteral lands. His comrade, Galahault, has also been claiming lands south of the wall. They don't like the idea of accepting a high king in place of a Roman emporer."

"You think they will start a rebellion?" I asked watching him turn to embrace a younger man with a broad smile. It was my first real taste of politics and I was fascinated.

"Galahault is young and rash...Thinks of himself as a conquerer. He might consider joining an uprising." March said as we turned to get a better look at the dark headed Galehault. He was a handsome, clean shaven man with wavy earlength hair. He reminded me of some Greek god with his bronze skin and broad shoulders. "It's Uriens we must worry about."

"How so?" I asked examining the older man. Uriens was not a handsome man, so much as he was regal looking. Stern mouth...Keen eyes.

"Uriens will not be eager to join any insurrection. Especially if it would mean fighting his own people. So long as the majority of the woads are behind Arthur, he will be hesitant. But should he feel that rebelling would be more lucrative..."

"He would turn against us?" I asked taking it all in.

"Very likely. Galahault inspires men, he can lead them. He's fearless, and that could work against us, but Uriens would be more of a threat. He's a good leader. Calculated, patient."

"I think I could handle him..." I said measuring him up. He was well muscled and looked to be in his early thirties. Prime condition.

March laughed and laid his head on my shoulder for a moment.

"No Isolde. I don't think that will be nescessary. As I said, he's enamored with Modron. Has been for years..."

"And she isn't married." I said finally understanding how he could become an ally. I knew nothing of Mordred's father so I assumed Modron had never married. A little voice in the back of my head reminded me off the horrified look on Lancelot's face when he saw the boy with Modron. But the idea...what it would mean...It was absurd. The consequences would have been devastating.

I decided I would not pry into Mordred's parentage, but the curiosity remained. I was also interested to see how Modron felt about this potential match. Arthur may have been high king, but she was a queen in her own right and his own family. She couldn't just be pawned off without her consent.

"So. What other enemies can we expect?" I asked, still intrigued. I could see no other unfamiliar people in the courtyard a the time.

"Many more... Caradoc, Bran, and those damned foreigners." He said. I raised an eyebrow. I had been gone for quite a while.

"Foreigners?" I asked as I watched Uriens try to engage Modron in conversation again.

"The Romans called them Saracens. They are men taken from the desert, past the Mediterranean. When the Romans left, they decided to stay and claim their lord's home as their own."

"On what authority? What are they lording over? What do the locals say? Are they recognizing the Saracens as their new rulers?" I asked. No man can just call himself a king or a lord...They had to prove themselves, as Arthur had.

"Their leader, Palomides, is showing himself to be a worthy leader. Not to mention he and the other Saracens are skilled warriors, which is a comfort to the locals." March said. He straightened up again. "Come on, let's go."

He led me out into the courtyard and introduced me to Uriens and Galahault.

"Ah the female knight." Uriens said pleasantly. Galahault looked on with interest. I gave a small, polite smile before reverting back to a blank face. I felt a small tug on my tunic and I looked down to see Mordred at my side.

"Hello." I said quietly. Uriens crouched down in front of Mordred and pulled a carved horse from his tunic.

"Here prince." He said solemnly as if presenting a great gift to a king. Mordred took it and returned the solemn look. I noted that Modron wasn't the only one Uriens was wooing.

"Thank you." Mordred said politely. He clung to my tunic even more. Uriens sat back and stood up again.

"Well. It is good to see real warriors again instead of soldiers." He said.

"The battle should be interesting." Galahault said. I directed my gaze at him.

"You do realize most of the woads have aligned themselves with Arthur? As with nearly all the other inhabitants on this isle?" I said conversationally. Galahault smiled.

"Once my people see that we can live without the Roman highking, you'll see that they will be much less inclined to fight for him." He said with the confidence of youth. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than me.

"What makes you think Britain will survive when it's filled with squabbling tribes and kingdoms who answer to no one?" I asked keeping my voice calm.

"We Britons can defend ourselves." Galahault said as if there should be no question of it.

"Really? Last time you people had that idea, the Romans ran right over you." I said coolly. Galahault's dauntless smile faltered. "But if you are so determined to defeat Arthur, so be it. Allies or no allies, I promise you that you'll rue the day you crossed Arthur's knights."

Instead of walking away and leaving him to his anger and embarassment, I stayed put. I hoped the young man would redeem himself. Such a fine military leader and warrior should not be an enemy.

"Well Galahault. Now that you've embarassed yourself, perhaps you should find your quarters." Uriens said balming the situation. "I can see why Modron enjoys your company so much, lady."

And with that, Uriens steered a slightly blushing Galahault out of the courtyard.

"Well you can beat him with wits. Now we'll just have to see about politics, or you'll be testing him with your sword." March said standing at my side. It was easier to speak to him this way...Without my stomach fluttering and my heart racing.

"I hope the rest aren't like him." I said. Uriens was a consumate politician. I hadn't been able to determine any of his feelings. He came off as perfectly nuetral.

"I had better get ready." I said stretching. March nodded and disappeared. I made my way out of the courtyard and to my room. I noticed Yseult coming out and realized that she wasn't just spending her nights there. Her things seemed to be there as well.

* * *

The dinner was to be cursory. Relaxed. We were saving the pomp and such for the next night, when the others would have arrived. I entered my room and brushed my hair. It was nearly dry. My room was nearly as cold as the outside wind. I shut the wooden shutters and pushed the green drape over it. I put on my new green tunic and my beautiful coat. I pinned on the fist sized gold plaque I had chosen from the kurgan gold. I eyed the rest of my gold...Tomorrow at the feast I could wear my dress, my neck plate, and my earrings. I didn't want to outshine my own queen though. How would it look if a knight wore more gold that the queen of Britain? No, that would not do. I would wear my dress and my ear peices. The neck plate I could save for my burgundy dress. I scooped up the diadem and my new dress. I wanted to show Guinevere. I made my way to Arthur and Guinevere's chambers and knocked. Arthur, hair still damp from a bath, answered and let me in.

"I would bow and kiss your feet, but my hands are full." I said sweetly.

"Very amusing." He said flatly. "Isolde..."

He looked like he wanted to say something and I had a feeling I knew what it was.

"I will be fine Arthur." I said assuredly. It was strange, everyone seeming to know my feelings before I even told them. It meant a lot to me that they appeared to be pained by the situation. They all seemed to want to set it straight, but they knew I would do what I thought needed to be done. Arthur looked at me for a moment.

"So my king..." I said knowing he hated the word. "How does the queen fare tonight?"

"Moody." He said under his breath. In a louder, more audible voice he spoke again. "She is readying herself."

He called out her name and she appeared after a moment. She was in a simple, dark green dress.

"What have you got there?" She asked as she pulled bits of hair back to be pinned. I laid the crown on the table behind me and held up the dress, a masterpeice of silk and gold.

Arthur groaned.

"Now everyone's going to be demanding I open up a trade route to the east..." He said looking upwards towards his God.

"Isolde it's lovely!" Guinevere said holding the skirt. She smiled wickedly. "Tristan's going to come crawling back to your bed."

I was modest enough to blush.

"No...I admit, it's something to look at, but I'm not going to wear a finer dress than the highqueen of Britain." I said plainly. "As for the other, I don't care. They can wear rags for all I care."

She smiled and traced some of the intricate gold embroidery.

"Don't worry. My dress is fine. My better dresses I will have to save for after the baby." She said still admiring the dress. I reached behind me and drew out the gold crown.

"A gift from Sarmatia." I said handing her the object. The blue glass looked even richer and more vibrant in firelight. "Or perhaps I should say from a long dead Scythian king and one of his wives..."

She gave me an odd look at the last part, but I didn't offer the story.

"Thank you Isolde." Guinevere said holding the crown. I nodded.

"I'lll leave you to finish getting ready." I said and made my exit. Outside my room I heard a Geraint crying. I sighed and opened Lancelot's door. I supposed the fool was still bathing. I picked up Geraint who was surprisingly heavy. Thick gold waves covered half of his face as he giggled, happy at receiving some attention.

"Izzz!" He said slapping my cheek. "Iz! Iz! Iz!"

"No. Isolde. Not Iz. Isolde." I corrected him. He continued to chant Iz.

"Iz-sol-dai." I said once again. The sky was darkening and I was sitting on Lancelot's bed. Dagonet poked his head in.

"Iz!" Geraint said again. I sighed hopelessly.

"Isolde." Dagonet said clearly as he picked up the small child from my arms. Geraint was quiet for a moment. Dagonet repeated my name.

"Eso." Geraint said. I perked up. It was an improvement! "Eso! Eso! Eso!"

"I think Eso will be the best he can do for now." Dagonet said seriously. He handed the child back to be and rubbed his head. His dark red tunic was handsome on him.

"You look nice Dag." I said. He gave a small smile.

"Perhaps I might win the attention of a lady." He said holding himself tall.

"Tell me about Lucan." I said as Geraint laid his head on my shoulder and sucked his thumb.

"I am going to make him my son." He said after a moment.

"We are all parents now..." I said reeling. A year ago we were coarse warriors and now there were marriages and children everywhere.

"Not quite." He said putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Ehh." I said shrugging. "This one and Mordred are enough for me. Perhaps I'll even teach Lucan a thing or two."

"You'll have to unless I find him a mother." He said. "I fear for the sanity of Gawain's children should he have any."

I snorted.

"I'm still wondering how Bors' brood will turn out. Probably be mad. All of them..." I said Dagonet shook his head. Lancelot flung the door open at that moment. His hair was still dripping.

"Sorry, there was a woman who offered to help me bathe and I-" He began with a cavalier smile.

"Baby." I said mildly as I pointed at the child in my lap. Lancelot looked stricken.

"Oh...I have to be careful of what I say for the next ten years don't I?" He said looking lost. Dagonet groaned morbidly.

"Gods help us..." I muttered. I set Geraint down. Lancelot began taking of his old tunic as I scrubbed as his head with a cloth. He yelped as I pulled some of his hair and jumped. I in turn winced as he landed on my foot. The end result was both of us toppling to the floor.

I was ready to swear that his elbow was in my lungs.

"Off." I rasped. Lancelot grinned madly and propped himself up on his hands.

"I'm sorry Isolde. I'm still worn out. You'll have to give me a few minutes to gather my strength. Then you and I can-"

"Baby!" I said. Dagonet shook his head pitiably and walked out the door.

* * *

Whew! I just kept writing and writing... It's going to get more interesting I promise. Right now she's just getting back into things... There's going to be plenty of battle and such in a chapter or two. REVIEW! By the way, it's going to be another week before I can update... Vacation! 


	32. The Firstborn

I'm back! Yes, it's been mentioned several times…I have horrible grammar skills. That's what I get for sleeping though English I guess!

Amy- Yes…A minor one soon and then a fairly large one. Not to be morbid but I like writing them.

RedDragon10 - Yeah, if you look at it that way, she is MS-ish. But the way I look at it is: Tristan is god, so Tristan needs an exceptional woman who is all of those things. So the challenge was to make her personality different than the average MS. And as painful as it is, I'm giving her some annoying behavior right now. She's being stubborn and prideful, though slightly dignified.

Lioness1 -I'm blushing…Thank you!

Blue Eyes At Night -That was the inspiration, yes!

Chiefhow- Yayyyyy! Finally, someone who doesn't hate him!

Brandy Labeau - Um…I'd say Geraint's about a year and a halfish. I'll probably have to go back and check the other chapters before I start the other story, but I'm thinking I'm right.

Sorry kids, no Tristan in this chapter. Next chapter will contain plenty though!

* * *

We eventually made it to the dinner. It went smoothly, with few tense moments. I observed Galehault and Uriens most of the time. I barely paid attention to Tristan and Yseult. I barely noticed that he was quick to offer her a smile whenever she gave him a special look. Barely. The two possible foes of Arthur were my main concern. Life had become more complicated. Enemies were no longer so easy to pick out. The thought of more potential enemies arriving tomorrow made my head spin.

"Walk with me." Modron said to me as everyone began to retire to their rooms. We made our way to the open courtyard where snow had begun to fall. Our feet crunched in the alabaster powder that covered the ground. Modron stopped and tipped her head up. She gazed at the moon as if deciding what to say. Waiting for whatever would come, I held a hand up and let the snow land on my open palms. Silvery flakes drifted down and then disappeared as if merging with my skin.

"I wanted to thank you for taking my son with you." She said. "I feared…I was concerned that some truths might be discovered soon. I did not wish for him to be forced to witness it."

I waited. She would either tell me or she wouldn't.

"I suppose you've noticed Lancelot's…discomfort when he sees Mordred and me."

It wasn't much of a question, so I didn't bother answering.

"You had not joined the knights when it happened. Near seven years ago. There was a battle. Merlin sent dozens of woads over the wall to another fort some miles away." She said without looking away from the patches of night sky visible through the snow laden clouds. I was suddenly aware that this was not a happy tale. It was a tale I was no longer sure I wanted to hear. "My father and mother lead our warriors in. It was the first battle I had been allowed to join the front lines. I was different then…Rash, impassioned. It was s stalemate for sometime, until the hated Arthur and his knights arrived. We had not known they were nearby, and we began to lose rapidly. I saw Arthur and my father pair off and I knew my father would win. _I knew_. How could he not? I had never seen my father fail at anything-"

Her voice broke and I waited until she composed herself. I knew what was coming. I was surprised by this emotion she was displaying.

"Arthur killed him." And this time her voice was stoney. "I hated him for it. As the retreat sounded, all I could think of was driving a sword through his heart. That night while the others mourned, I crept over the wall again. I followed the knights to a village where they stayed for a few nights. One of their number had been injured badly."

I heard a name whispered in my head. _Balin_.

"I had meant to kill him the moment I saw him. I didn't care who saw or what became of me. I wanted to avenge my father." She said and paused again. She opened her eyes and looked at the domus where Arthur was no doubt in his chamber with Guinevere. "I told myself I was just waiting for the right moment. I let three days pass. Then the wounded knight died and they all nearly drank themselves to death. I had let the villagers and knights think I was some breed of a camp follower. That night I placed myself near their rooms so I could have access to Arthur. I had realized that I would need to kill him before my resolve failed. Watching him for those three days while his friend died made me see more than just my father's killer. He was a man capable of love and honor. Merlin was going to be angry I knew. Most wished Arthur dead, but my family knew that Merlin felt differently sometimes."

"Did you know he was your kin?" I asked when she stopped for another pause. I wanted to know if the fact that he was her half uncle mattered to her when she was bent on killing him.

"I knew that Artorius Castus was the son of a Roman and the woman who had abandoned my mother." Mordred said simply. "I had never thought of him as family. I _still _do not view him has an uncle in the true sense."

I nodded, acknowledging the fairness of it.

"Late in the night I snuck into his room, ready to kill him. I was expecting…I do not know what I was expecting, but it wasn't to find Arthur weeping with his head in his hands."

Perhaps it was shocking a to a woad girl of sixteen or seventeen to find the Roman commander mourning over the death of a knight, but I could picture it without difficulty. I found it more than easy to think my commander, who had jumped into an icy pond and held me when Branwain was killed, was capable of it.

"I knew I couldn't do it immediately. I could not kill a man who was weeping like a child…It was if I was watching myself… It was what I had put off for days; mourning for my father. I put my arms around him and then…"

She gave a bitter smile that was illuminated by the moon. The shadows made her face look like it was carved from marble.

"I left in the morning before first light. Your friend, Lancelot saw me leaving Arthur's room and I think he knew that I wasn't some village whore. I don't know if he recognized me from the battle or if it was something in my face. He looked as if he was recovering from too much wine, but he still through open the door and ran in. I ran out of the village as fast as I could and returned to my family. When the baby started to show, no one asked. They assumed it was my business with some woad that I didn't wish to marry."

I felt my blood run cold. Her story was something that struck a chord deep within me, but that wasn't it. I was looking at the future. A future in which the high king of Britain had two children. One who was his child with his wife and queen. One who was his firstborn with a woad queen and the daughter of his half sister. Countless wars had been fought over succession to a throne.

"Who knows?" I asked in a hoarse voice. Modron, normally so withdrawn and collected, was colorless with the knowledge of what it all meant.

"You, Kaherdin, Merlin." She half whispered.

"And Lancelot." I finished. If he hadn't already, he would soon put two and two together. "What of Mordred?"

Another bitter smile.

"I don't think he would tell me if he knew." She said. I felt some comfort knowing that Merlin knew. Surely he would not have allowed his daughter to marry Arthur if he thought this would escalate into warfare? Uneasy, I contemplated on what we should do. Somehow I did not think Modron had told me that story just to pass the time. She needed help.

"Do you have any designs that Mordred should come to the throne?" I asked turning towards her. I needed to know.

"He has my place to take when the time comes. Arthur becoming king never occurred to me before Badon." She said in a voice as guarded as my own. "It shouldn't matter now anyways. Uriens will treat him like his own son. That should be enough for him."

"So you will marry Uriens?" I asked looking at her. I did not think she loved Uriens. Not in the way that March told me Uriens loved her. I wondered what it was like to look at your own marriage as a political move.

"It will be a good move. For all of us." She said. I nodded. It was her own decision.

"And will you tell Arthur that he has a son?" I asked. I did not know if would be more merciful to leave him in the dark, or to tell him.

"Not now. Not until my son is ready." She said and this time her voice was strong and sure.

Lancelot was something to be worried about in that case. His loyalty was to Arthur, not Modron. But did it really concern loyalty? If it could all be handled the right way, would there be any reason to worry? Modron seemed to know that I was struggling with this new knowledge.

"We will have other days to discuss it. It does not have to be dealt with right now." She said standing tall once again. I wondered if it had been hard for her to watch Arthur wed Guinevere. If it was the same type of agony Lancelot felt when he had watched it…Was that the nature of her feelings for him though? What was done was done however. Her own feelings for Arthur did not concern me.

"What of your own dilemma? It seems my sister has moved in for the kill." She asked with a one sided smile. I actually laughed at that. The words put an image into my head of Yseult sneaking up on a befuddled Tristan with a nice thick rope to subdue him with. It felt good to be able to laugh about it. I finished my gales of laughter and shrugged.

"Ohhh!" Modron half laughed. "Don't tell me that the fierce Isolde is going to let the scout go without a good fight?"

At the thought, my pride felt wounded in several ways. I wasn't necessarily _giving up without a fight_. I was…just…not fighting? The idea of fighting over a man made me feel low. I hated the idea of throwing myself at a man's feet as if I was not worthy. It was not arrogance, it was pride.

"We made it very clear we were not in love." I said plainly.

"Ah. But that was in the beginning…Can you honestly say you feel the same?" She asked with a knowing look, Her shimmering, coarse hair falling around her face. I could looked away. I could have changed the subject.

"No." I said. "But if he loves your sister, then what purpose would it serve for me to interfere?"

"None at all. Assuming that is that he loves her…"

"Well, I don't know why a man would let a girl cosset him like that if he-"

"You said it. Girl. Not a woman. Not Tristan's equal."

I snorted.

"Since when do men want equals? Modron, Yseult is your sister." I protested.

"Yes. And I know her too well to believe for one moment that the two of them love each other. Perhaps Yseult thinks she loves him. Maybe _Tristan_ even thinks he loves her. _But that does not mean it is love_!"

"Then what is it?" I asked crossly.

"Something that fades. What was it when you gave up Tristan for March?" Modron asked. I was thoroughly sick of people seeming to know more about my own damn feelings than me. But her words made sense in a strange way. And in a horrible moment, I felt some flicker of hope. That hopeful flare that shot up my body brought me very close to walking away and leaving Modron standing in the snow. Snow that had now piled slightly on my shoulders and melted into my hair.

"If he loved me, he would have come to me." I said, sure that at last I had won. Not so.

"The same way you have come to him? Tell me Isolde, since you have returned, have you let him know you love him?" Modron asked pointedly.

"No." She wasn't talking to me like a child, but somehow, I felt like one.

"You're afraid he will not want you." She said rubbing the bridge of her nose. Me, shying away because im frightened of rejection? Absolutely not! Ha!

"Yes."

We stood there looking at each other. I could not tell her how to tell Arthur, and she could not tell me how to tell Tristan. She gave me a look that seemed to say _I cannot know you if he loves you._

She returned her gaze to the sky.

"There is going to be a hunt tomorrow. You and Mordred are welcome to come." I said and set off to my room.

* * *

Later, I laid in bed staring at the wall. I thought of all the reasons I loved Tristan. I somehow doubted that Yseult knew him well enough to appreciate everything about him. I took a deep breath. I had…abandoned Tristan in a way. After the battle on the frozen lake, Tristan had been left thinking I was dead. Then I had reappeared, but I had taken up with another man. Then I had left for Sarmatia for the better part of a year. Had I expected him to go all the time without a woman? No. Honestly, I hadn't. But I had expected him to stick to the loose women that hung around bars. Not take just _one _woman and fall in love with her. He had every right too I admitted. But if I loved him and I had gone this long without sharing my bed, why couldn't he? The most obvious answer was that my love was unrequited. Or maybe I had left him vulnerable, and Yseult had seemed like a angel of mercy. She was warm and loving and doting…Things I supposed I was not. Perhaps Tristan had thought that what she offered was what women were supposed to do when they loved you… A thought crossed my mind. A thought that made me feel physically ill. If this _courtship_ continued, would he- gods, I didn't want to think it- marry her? That would end any hope. I would never, ever destroy a marriage. Not even for Tristan. Unless that happened, would it be merciful to help him realize that he and Yseult weren't for one another? To keep him from trapping himself? I realized how easy it was to convince oneself that it would be the right thing to do… I groaned and closed my eyes, feeling oddly out of control of my life for the first time in a long while.

* * *

Review! 


	33. Feast Night

**MonDieu666- Uh I pronounce it Iz-sohl-day. Could be wrong but that's what I thought it was supposed to sound like. Modron is Arthur's half sister's daughter. In the legend she was his actual half sister, but that was just a little too much for me. I mean the fact that she's his niece in my story grosses me out, but the sister thing would have been too weird to write. I would have hurled or something while writing. **

**Brandy Lebeau- Yeah, looking back over it, the entire chapter is one long conversation. But I wanted emphasis to be placed on that conversation because it's going to be half the plot of my next story.

* * *

**

Sunlight filtered through the window directly into my formerly closed eyes. I smiled pleasantly. I pushed all thoughts of the looming feast away. The day was mine. Mine to spend with my knights. Lancelot, Bors and Dagonet. I stood up and slipped on a tunic. I peaked out of the window and looked at the roof tops of the city. The sun was out and the puny layer of snow was glinting violently as if fighting back against the heat. With Pata by my side, the only other weapon I needed was my bow. I smiled fondly thinking of the last hunt Galahad and I had been on together. I lined my eyes with kohl for protection against the harsh glare of sun and snow. My green coat was adorned, and I was off. I stole and entire loaf of warm bread from the newly discovered kitchen and set off for the stables. Lancelot, Bors and Dagonet were already saddling their horses. They were not the only ones however. Tristan was completely ready and in conversation with Mordred. Behind Mordred stood Lucan and Gilly.

"'Lo Lucan. 'Lo Gilly." I said laying a hand on the last one's shoulder.

"Papa says I shouldn't let women call me Gilly." Gilly said with a smile, knowing his father had meant to give me a hard time. Lucan smiled along with him, much improved from the frightened boy Dagonet had rescued from a dungeon like hell.

"What should I call you?" I asked letting my curiosity show. I had never heard the boy referred to as anything else. He mumbled something.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it¼" He said with a slight blush. "It's stupid."

"Galehodyn! Galehodyn!" Bors chanted.

"Are you the child or are they?" I asked Bors as he stuck out his chest proudly.

"Galehodyn's a fine name." He said throwing a glove at his son. Gilly rolled his eyes at his half mad father.

"Hm." I said tossing around the name in my head. "Not bad."

"Can I ride with you?" Mordred asked turning towards me as I slipped Scosin's saddle on him. He pawed the ground with excitement. Kolaksay would have stood perfectly still¼

"Absolutely." I said with love for the boy. It made me feel special to know he didn't care if his friends saw him riding in a woman's lap. Making sure my quiver was full, I helped Mordred haul himself into the saddle. Once he was situated, I swung myself up behind him. Lucan and _Galehodyn _sat in their own fathers' laps, or in Lucan's case, fatherly figure's lap.

"Can't wait till Geraint's big enough!" Lancelot said nearly bouncing in his saddle. I pretended to weep for the infant, and Lancelot leaned over and prodded my leg with an arrow. I slapped his unprotected head.

Bors made a disdainful sound.

"Calling _me _a child¼Tristan needs to ride between the two of you to keep you from pulling each other's hair!"

And Tristan did just that as we rode out of the stables and down the streets to the gate. No Yseult to coddle him. Apparently Lancelot was thinking along the same lines.

"Hey Tristan. You sure you can go a whole day without a kiss or a caress?" Lancelot said wickedly. I kept the smile from blooming across my face.

"Oh yes!" Bors said with an even more serious voice. "Are you sure you will be able to make it?"

Tristan favored them both with a frosty look.

"Papa says you're a kept man." Gilly said with a look of innocence I knew was fake. I choked on my bread while Dagonet kept his head bowed to hide his laughter. Tristan said nothing in defense of Yseult and it pleased me. Modred tilted his head up at me and gave me a knowing look.

"Can you pull that bow string back?" I asked meaning the bow he had made in Sarmatia. We were fairly deep in the forest. He shook his head and dark locks patted my neck. I pulled my bow out and held his hands in the right places. He was seven and it would be a while before he could draw his bow, but practice would quicken it.

"Sarmatian bow is harder to pull back. But once you grow used to it," I said devoting all my attention to the boy and bow. "you can fire an arrow farther than any Briton or Roman bow."

"When you have time, pull the string back as far as you can and hold it." Tristan said looking over at the boy.

"That way, each day it becomes easier to pull in back." I said in agreement. I let go and watched as Mordred pulled the string back as far as he could. A little more than an inch. I smiled and burrowed my face into the child's hair. I remembered when I had done the same thing years and years ago.

"You must train your arm." Tristan's voice was slightly deeper this time.

"It takes time though." I added. Mordred nodded, taking it all in.

"He's good with a sword." I said looking at Tristan. "You should see him."

"You've been training him?" Tristan asked as Mordred gave up for the moment and began fiddling with my tunic edge as he watched the forest for game.

"Yes." I said sitting up straighter. I scanned the forest for any sign of life.

I waited another moment before bringing up a subject I had not mentioned to any one else.

"The tribes are moving west." I said quietly. Tristan's shoulders stiffened for a moment.

"How far?"

"I couldn't say. My own clan has moved over a fortnight to the west." I said not looking at him. The Huns had forced the Sarmatians to west before I was even born. Atilla had been dead some years now, but more and more barbarians seemed to pour in from the east. It was a worrisome thought…I felt a cold hatred for the Romans. We had been great once. We could have withstood the tide of easterners…

"They'll be in Europe if they keep moving." He said without much emotion.

"I think we'll survive." I said looking around Tristan's shoulders. Lancelot had fallen behind us, seemingly to watch for deer. I refrained from shaking my head in irritation. I wanted to tell Tristan how I felt. We were alone, and I had nothing to lose as far as Tristan was concerned. I didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable with him, but it felt like there was something else in between our horses besides air. Yseult and my unspoken confession. How could I tell him I had been stupid? That I had done him wrong by not knowing from the beginning that he would never expect me to…to be something I wasn't…I pushed it all down. I wouldn't say anything until I knew how to say it. The last thing I wanted to do was to make myself look like some lovesick puppy. Once again I found myself cursing my pride.

"Deer!" Dagonet called back in a quiet voice. We stopped and dismounted. We tied our horses up, and quietly slung spears and arrows over our shoulders. Tristan laid a brown hand on Scosin's white crest. He looked at me with a slightly concerned expression.

"Kolaksay belonged in Sarmatia." I said using a cord to secure as much of my hair as I could at the base of my neck. Chaotic strands and braids fell out hopelessly. I let Mordred carry my quiver, but I made sure to take out two arrows so I would not need to reach for him if the deer was spotted. I shuffled my arms. It was cold, but my thick coat might hinder me. I turned to lay the coat on my saddle and found Tristan looking fixedly at my neck. I touched the two marks idly.

"Wise." He remarked simply and began testing his bow. Mordred and I followed the others in the direction that the deer had gone. We all walked a fair distance apart. Mordred had spent his entire life in a forest and was frighteningly quiet as he trekked across the fading snow. Many of the animals had already committed to their winter sleep so there was little life to be found.

We crept through the trees for nearly an hour without speaking. Diluted sunlight filtered though the trees, half of which were barren of leaves. Bors froze for a moment, listening. Dagonet held his spear at the ready. Tristan began edging to the east as I notched an arrow. The boys were watching us with large, excited eyes. Dagonet lunged and hurled the spear. I watched it travel through the air as graceful as an arrow. As it neared its destination, I finally noticed the stag I had not seen before. The spear missed the animal by mere inches it seemed. There was a flash of brown and the stag was gone. Bors took off for it with Lancelot close behind. Dagonet ran to retrieve his spear while Tristan shot off in the direction he thought the beast would go. Mordred grabbed my tunic and pulled me in a different direction.

"This way." He said with a strange, knowing look. I put my trust in him and followed. We darted through trees until we came to a thicket. It looked impassible at first, until Mordred ducked his head and disappeared into a rough tunnel at the bottom of the thicket. In my lupine state I barely noticed the thorns and leaves that savaged my hair and hands. Long moments of darkness and the smell of dirt…Decaying leaves…We burst out through the other side, and Mordred led me through another string of trees. Suddenly we were standing on the edge of a hillock. There, not far below us, stood the stag in a small, shaded clearing. His head was up and alert, staring in the direction that he had fled from. I took in the beauty of the animal. He was free in a way men and women could never be. Just as swiftly as the thought passed, I knelt down and pulled Mordred in front of me. I notched an arrow and pulled back the string. My arms encompassed the fey like boy as I offered the bow.

"I will give it flight. You tell it where to go." I whispered. Mordred didn't hesitate. His small hands joined my own and he moved the bow to where he wanted it. I didn't check to see if the aim was correct. He nodded and we both let go. The arrow had a few glorious moments of exodus before embedding itself into the ribs of the stag. I stood up immediately and squeezed Mordred's shoulder. He looked at me and gave a small smile. We loped down the fairly steep side. The deer was dead. It had been a good shot. Lucan and Dagonet rushed into the clearing a moment later. At the same time I saw Tristan emerge at the base of the hillock.

"Damn you! Bloodthirsty siren!" Bors roared as he burst in with Lancelot and Gilly.

"Glory hog…" Lancelot muttered.

"I didn't shoot it. The boy did." I drawled while stretching my arm. Mordred looked confident, but not boastful as the other two boys looked at him with newfound admiration. I had a brief image of an older Mordred leading men into battle. I shook my head and smiled at Dagonet. Mordred, the brave hunter, once more wound a hand in my tunic. I smiled at the thought of a grown Mordred still clinging to my tunic. He looked imploringly at me and I bent over to pick him up. I had forgotten for a moment how young he was. Only six…My guilt was swept away after one look into eyes that resembled Arthur's. Mordred was fine. The killing of the animal had not fazed him. Gilly, although a few years older that Mordred, looked as if he would have loved nothing more than to be picked up by his own father. Lucan looked tired as well.

"We should get the young ones back." Dagonet said firmly.

"Yes. And get this meat cooking for tonight!" Bors said clapping Tristan heavily on the shoulder.

"Yeh…" Tristan said in a low voice. "You're getting fatter."

Bors roared with laughter.

"And you're getting older!" Lancelot said with the arrogance of a younger man. "While I'm in my prime…"

"Well I'm younger and prettier than all of you." I tossed in as Dag hefted the stag over his shoulders.

"I'll drink to that." Lancelot said while lunging towards Lucan. Lucan cackled as Lancelot threw the boy over his shoulders like the stag and began to head back to the horses. I was glad the boy was here with us. I felt cold at the thought of Lucan and Guinevere wasting away with the rotting bodies of that hell.

* * *

We rode back to the walls of Caerleon just behind another caravan. I groaned.

"More of them…" I said pitifully. "Of course, we could just sent Tristan to talk to them. They'd be so offended they would resort to couriers forever more…"

Tristan quirked his bowed lips.

"Or you. You'd make them cry." He remarked looking ahead. His hawk flew down and landed on his outstretched arm. Her beak was bloody from her last meal. She hopped on my shoulder for a moment and nipped my ear.

"She remembers you." He said as the domus came into sight and the falcon returned to his shoulder.

"Of course." I said assuredly and we finished the rest of the way in a familiar, companionable silence. My stomach rumbled and I decided my first stop would be the kitchens.

"Ah the hunters return!" Guinevere called out loftily. Lancelot gave her a gallant smile, and she smiled even more warmly.

"Yes, a stag for the queen's table." He said as if he had brought down the beast himself. His flop of curls swayed in the wind. Arthur was speaking stiffly with a group of men with skin like bronze and leather. He looked over at us and motioned us over. We didn't look very imperial, but we didn't need to. The knights strode purposefully over to the Roman king. We stood at his side and examined the newcomers. I new instantly that these were the Saracens March had spoken of. The apparent leader was a hale man of around thirtyish. Roughly hewn ebony hair capped a proud head. Strong, straight features and sooty eyes. He was smooth faced with only a small, closely cropped patch of hair on his chin. In my eyes he was no Tristan, but he was handsome nonetheless.

"These are some of my knights." Arthur said affably. We bowed our heads slightly to the man in acknowledgement. I looked at his companions. The leader, Palomides if what March said was true, had a brother I assumed upon seeing the man at his side. The similarities between them were unmistakable. There were several other men in his retinue, some swarthy, some white. Had this Palomides set himself up as a prince? Or a chieftain? Or perhaps just a warlord? Their body language spoke of humble men.

"Sarmatians." Palomides said appraising each of us. His gaze fell on me and he held it there. "Another civilization marred by the Romans."

Galahad would get along marvelously with this Saracen.

"They took your women as well?" The brother asked curiously of me.

"When our families run out of sons." I said facilely. I kept my face a mask as I watched these newcomers. Some of their men muttered. Outrageous. Shameful. Honorless. Apparently these Saracens thought it was an evil thing to steal women from their homes. Having had this reaction from numerous people, I was rather bored with the routine. Arthur was too.

"Isolde, Tristan. Will you escort them to the other domus?" Arthur asked us. Tristan looked as if he might refuse.

"Yes." I said putting aside my dreams of crumbling cheese and warm bread for the moment. Tristan relented and nodded.

"Until tonight." Arthur said and excused himself. Stupid king… I mounted Scosin again and waited for the Saracens to do the same. Tristan and I rode ahead for the brief journey down the cobbled street. We entered the gates of the domus and a few servants came rushing out. They were rather frazzled it seemed. Already they were serving several guests; now more were coming. They made clumsy bows and began to unload the Saracens' belongings.

"The baths are nearby. Ask one of these women," I said motioning to the busy women helping the Saracens. "And they will show you to them."

"Thank you lady." Palomides said in a thickly accented voice. I eyed their swords. Large, curved blades. I wondered if any of them had a spare… I nodded and turned to go. Tristan and I made our way back to the royal residence.

"I like the baths." I said suddenly. Tristan looked at me oddly. "The baths are nice. So are the rooms. But I liked the Wall better."

At this he nodded. This was all new and grand to me. Perhaps this new life was not as extravagant as a Pharaoh's or an Emperor's, but it was very different from the simplicity of wall life as I thought of it.

"I'm returning in the spring." Tristan said after a moment. I wondered if Yseult would go back to her own people… Gods I hoped so.

"Gawain and I will probably join you if he has returned by then." I said lazily. It was well after noon. I knew that Gawain would not likely enjoy all this pomp.

"I could use the company." He said and I snorted.

"Poor, lonely Tristan." I said monotonously. He leaned over and popped my shoulder.

"Isolde, that ring's too big for you." He said looking straight ahead. I looked at the gold ring on my thumb. Antlers sprawled across my thumb. I had taken to wearing it since I had returned. I didn't think it would be appropriate to give it to him as I had originally planned. I wondered what had happened to my coral ring that I had left him. A brief image of it on Yseult's finger flashed through my mind. I pushed it away. I knew Tristan too well to ever think he would do something so callous.

"I'll return your ring." Tristan said as if reading my mind. "You didn't die so there's no reason for me to keep it."

I could only nod. We were almost at the gate.

"March?" He asked after a moment. I wanted to tell him. I couldn't. I hated my pride. Hated it.

"No. Over." I said simply. I loved reverting to one word sentences with Tristan.

He made a vague sound.

"Speaking of love and such, are you and Yseult to be the next wedding?" I asked as we entered the gates. My face was blank and my voice was neutral. Gods, I should have been a spy or even a diplomat.

"Unlikely." He said stiffly. "She wants to."

"That must be a delightful subject." I said wryly. My mood had suddenly brightened. The pathetic winter sun suddenly seemed bright and warm. La la la…

He grunted.

"Do you love her?" I asked knowing I shouldn't. Tristan looked taken aback. Oh gods how obvious could I be…

I watched as several emotions played across his face. He looked positively flummoxed.

"Never mind." I said quickly. I hopped off Scosin and handed him to Jols. I was running away for all purposes. At least I managed not to run. I kept it to a quick walk... This was all too dramatic. I made my way to my room and laid down on my bed. I had never in my life been so unsure of everything. I didn't feel like myself. This was not Isolde. This was… Some stupid girl who had ruined everything. She had left a man she loved for some silly fling and then left for over seven months. What had I expected? I was Isolde. I was cold in many ways that other women were warm. I was merciless and bloodthirsty. Tristan had found another woman who was willing to love him. Yseult was warm, doting, soft…I took a deep breath. I remembered how I had pushed away thoughts of Branwain until I was numb to her death. I always did that to things out of my control. If I could not change it, I let it go. I thought of a man with high cheekbones, ragged hair. I loved him, but he had gone another way. I couldn't make him love me. So I would let him go. No more thoughts of Tristan. I left my friendship untouched, but anything more I would push down so deeply that it would never trouble me again.

* * *

I slept easily after that, but my dreams were lonely and colorless. I woke up after sunset. The sky was a dark, orange nothing. I stood up and undressed. The rest of the guests would have arrived by now. My duty was to make sure Arthur's reign succeeded. Tonight, that meant being impressive. I combed my hair out and let the strands fall where they wished for the time being. I lined my eyes darkly with kohl and bit my lips to make them red. I put my dangling gold ear pieces through the holes my mother had made in my ears during my visit. It had not been a pleasant experience.

My hair was not curly and past my hips like many women's, but it was smooth and wavy at the ends. I would make the most of it. I pulled large pieces of hair at my temples down to the nape of my neck and braided them with more hair. Arbitrary strands fell out as usual, but I didn't bother with them. Finally I put my dress on. I felt beautiful. The red silk was fitted snugly to my torso. It was not belted; instead it outlined my hips and began to fall loosely after that. Deep crimson silk and gold embroidery made my sun darkened skin glow. I suppose this is why Galina loved to wear dresses so often. It was a floaty feeling…

"Isolde!" I heard a bang on the door. It was Lancelot. I opened the door and he froze and didn't speak.

"Have the others gone down already?" I asking looking around. I did not enjoy the thought of the grand entrance of a straggler.

"Do you need me to tell you how beautiful you look?" Lancelot said finally. I looked up at him and smiled. We made our way to the roundtable room. Since the guests did not number in the hundreds, it would serve us well. We entered the room and saw that most everyone was already there. At least, nearly all the chairs were taken. I was going to sit next to Lancelot, but a wave from Guinevere stopped me. I made my way to where she and Arthur sat. I took a seat to her left and noticed that I was also next to Palomides.

"Now I see why did not leave this land." Palomides said good-humouredly. His voice was deep and pleasant. "The women on this isle are majestic."

He tipped his chalice to Guinevere and I. Both of us actually blushed like young girls.

"Oi! Isolde! You look nice!" Bors yelled across the table. I looked over to where he, Dag, Lancelot and Tristan sat. And, oh _marvelous_. Yseult.

"If you had to choose between me and eating the stag, which would it be?" I called out to him. He had the audacity to pretend to be torn.

"I'd eat the stag, and let you wear that dress some other time!" He said in what he thought was a reasoning voice. I gave him a mock deadly look. Lancelot was leaning around Arthur and making kissing motions in mine and Guinevere's direction.

"Lancelot, are you planning on running away with Guinevere, or Isolde?" Arthur asked with a huge smile. Lancelot clapped him on the shoulder.

"Both, you Christian ass." Lancelot said easily. Arthur tipped his head back and laughed. Only Lancelot would call Arthur an ass. I shook my head. A pair of dark eyes caught mine. Tristan held my eyes for a moment and then looked away. Yseult was already looking pointedly away from Tristan and me.

"Isolde, this is my brother Safir." Palomides said while putting a hand on the shoulder of the man who resembled him closely. I nodded.

"We were discussing the warriors on this island. The women in particular. Are most Sarmatian women raised with a sword?" Palomides asked with genuine interest.

"Yes." I answered glad to have something to talk about with these men. "From the time we can walk we learn to ride and shoot a bow. Then we learn swordsmanship."

"What of things such as weaving and cooking?" Safir asked bemusedly. "How do the women have time to run the household if they pursue war craft?"

The food was brought out and we piled our plates while continuing to discuss women as soldiers. The table was filled with the low hum of eating and talking. Guinevere soon joined our conversation.

"If a woman does not wish to be a soldier, she will not be forced to. But all woad women learn to handle some form of weapon." Guinevere explain to the men.

"Ah! So it is a…how do you say… preference?" Palomides said as he began to understand. "Like if a man chooses to be a soldier or a blacksmith or a farmer?"

"Exactly." I said elatedly. These men seemed to be open to the idea of female warriors.

"What of marriage?" Safir asked as he bit into a piece of meat. Guinevere turned to answer a question Arthur had asked her.

"Yes, do your men prefer women who are warriors?" Palomides seconded. I shrugged.

"It depends on the man." I said. Palomides black eyes twinkled warmly.

"And what of you lady? Are you to marry one of these men?" He said gesturing to the knights. I laughed and shook my head.

"Ah. You are opposed to marriage?" He said sitting back in his chair.

"No." I said simply. Palomides gave me a smile and turned to speak with his brother. I took the opportunity to look at the new faces around the roundtable. I saw that Ealasaid was here. She saw me looking from her position next to her brother and gave me a kind smile. I nodded and looked at her companions. On her other side sat two young women. One was a ebony haired girl. She wasn't beautiful, but she had a pleasant face. The other girl had the palest blonde hair I had ever seen. She was dainty looking with a delicate nose and dark eyebrows. Next to the girl with pale hair was a middle age man with a full, dark beard that hung to his chest. He was deep in conversation with Modron. Next to Modron was Uriens with Galehault. Leading back to my area of the table, next to the other Saracens, were two men who looked as if they would rather be beaten with the flat side of a sword than be sitting there.

"Who are they?" I asked Guinevere who looked lovely in a russet gown. She was angelic looking, but I would never forget the girl who killed a Roman lord without hesitation. She scowled when she saw the men I referred to.

"Caradoc and Turquine." She said eyeing them as if she would love to stake their heads to the city gates. "Bastards. They are the brothers who have been causing us so much trouble. Arthur sent a messenger some weeks ago…He never returned. _They _of course deny any involvement. My father thinks otherwise."

"Do they act alone?" I whispered. She gave them one last cold look before turning her gaze to me.

"I suspect they consider allying themselves with the enemies of Britain quite often." She said as her eyes became unfocused. She laid a hand on her belly and looked deep in thought.

I sat back in my seat and wondered at all of it. It seemed the Saxons who attacked the south did not have the same single minded goal that Cedric had. He had been bent on destroying every trace of the inhabitants of Britain. These Saxons, and their allies the Angles, did not appear to be above making deals with Britains.

"Arthur, Bors and I have been thinking-" Lancelot began but was interrupted by Tristan's disbelieving snort. "Ahem. That we could use the amphitheatre For ourselves."

"That would be a good area to train with the horses." I said thoughtfully to Arthur.

"It would be a good place for the races and tournaments on holy days." Guinevere said in agreement.

"Absolutely." Arthur said immediately. Any further discussion of the subject was cut off by a thick, gruff voice.

"When can we expect our dues to be paid?" All eyes turned to Caradoc. Dues? What dues?

"My lord, I thought I made it very clear that I will not be paying Rome's debts." Arthur said reverting back to the cordiality he used when speaking to high class men. Of course, looking back on the treatment of Marius, cordiality meant nothing.

"We have suffered much. Our people need aid-" Turquine began but was cut off. Looking at his extravagant girth and fine clothes, I somehow doubted that the man was living a scanty life. Compared the woads, the man was the Emperor of Rome.

"All the people of Britain are suffering, Including those here in Caerleon. I cannot dole out funds to all the peoples of Britain-" Arthur said and this time his voice was hard.

"Of course. You should start with the _neediest._" Caradoc said while a drop of wine dribbled down his meaty jowls. By neediest, I assumed he meant himself and his brother. Arthur's mouth was a thin line.

"We will decide who is in need of our assistance and who is not." Guinevere said the last part with a stoniness that made her point very, _very_ clear. All the talking had stopped completely around the table. My backbone felt like it was made of iron as I sat stiffly next to the young queen. I made sure not to glare at the mutinous men, but I was sure that my expression wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Perhaps this discussion should be at another time." Modron said smoothly. I doubted Arthur wanted to Uriens and Galehault and the Saracens to be witness to this…discussion. Modron had saved us from a bad situation I noted. Arthur nodded, and everyone resumed their previous doings. The night wore on for another hour or so. Finally, Arthur stood, made a toast, and everyone began to leave. Bors grabbed my arm on the way out.

"You're comin' with us girl. Off to have a drink we are…It's time for the real socializing." He said and led me out of the domus grounds. Tristan, Bors, Dagonet, Lancelot, Jols, and I made our way to a bar near the soldier barracks.

"Oh thank the gods. I need a drink…" I muttered as we sat down at a table. It didn't much resemble the yard at Hadrian's wall, but it would do. I was seated between Tristan and Dagonet. Lancelot disappeared and returned with enough drinks to keep us drunk for days.

"Farewell my sober friends." Bors said raising his cup. I didn't wait for the cheers. I downed mine in a matter of seconds.

"You have the stomach of a wild boar. Scrawny Lancelot here would be puking if he did that." Bors said cackling. He tipped his own drink back and attempted to guzzle it all down. It was rather strong stuff he realized too late. He gave a choking cough and some of the fiery liquid bubbled from his nostrils. We burst into laughter as Bors' eyes watered. I laid my head on the table as I laughed violently. Lancelot was crying he was laughing so hard. Dagonet's laugh was a deep boom while Tristan's was a low sound. The scout shook as he laughed and laid a hand on the small of my back. He kept it there even after the laughter died out.

"I don't think I'm the one who needs to worry about my drinking." Lancelot said as he wiped the tears of mirth off his face. I struggled to breathe normally again and Dagonet patted me on the back.

The absence of Galahad and Gawain was painfully obvious to myself, but that did not keep us from enjoying ourselves for many hours.

"Hey- hey Tristan." A drunken Lancelot slurred. "Where's your bonny maid?"

Bors cackled madly. Whether it was due to the nickname Lancelot had bestowed upon Yseult, or to something else entirely, I couldn't judge. Tristan, hand still on my back, shrugged.

"Angry at me." He said and lifted his cup to his mouth. He brought it back down and stared at it. It was empty though it had almost been full a moment ago. His eyed traveled to mine. It was full to the brim.

"You stole my drink." He said simply. I looked at him and laughed.

"I'm holding it ransom. I want my ring back." I said matter-of-factly. I scooted my cup out of his reach.

"You gave it to me." He said reaching for the drink.

"You said you'd give it back. Besides, not going to fit you." I said trying to keep my balance. I snatched the cup away from his almost victorious hand. I managed to drink half before he pulled it away. There was a superior look on his face as he held it across the table away from me.

"Now, I-" He began but stopped. There was a slurping noise. Our heads turned to the direction of the cup. Lancelot's head was hovering over the cup as he quaffed at the ale. Tristan yanked it back and glared at the other knight. I looked in the cup. There wasn't much left, and on the top there was a floaty layer of something that looked suspiciously like spit. Tristan slid the cup back towards Lancelot with a disgusted look. I sagged against the scout.

"We've lost the ale…" I groaned. He made a sad sound.

"I think we are all very drunk." Dagonet said promptly.

"You think so?" Bors asked doubtfully. Most of the bar patrons had already left. I was fairly tired and most certainly not sober.

"Alright…Fine…Let's go." Lancelot said standing up.

"Dag, come with me for a moment. Vanora's made you a new tunic." Bors said hauling Dagonet off to his home. Lancelot gave me a wicked look.

"Vanora you say? She must miss me. Especially our, I mean your children…" Lancelot called out and ran to catch up. Which left…Tristan and I alone. Smooth Lance. Real smooth.

His arm stayed around my middle for a moment as we left the bar, and then slid off. I was still in my heavy silk dress I noted. Tristan opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it.

"You asked me if I loved her." He said after a moment. The domus was across the city. Please don't ask me why I asked. Please. "I care for her. But I think love is something else."

Apparently that was all he had to say on the subject. We walked in silence for sometime after that. The small, silly part of me hoped I would fall and he would catch me and we would- I quickly silenced that. We were at the gates of the domus and I had not managed to trip. My pride would not let me trip on purpose either, so I would have to go without being in his arms. I was content at that moment. I wanted Tristan to be happy, but I couldn't help but be glad that he didn't love her. Finally we reached the all where our rooms were. Tristan laid a hand on my arm for me to wait. He disappeared into his room for a moment. A moment later he reappeared and deftly slipped the ring on my finger. I stared at it for a moment. It was home on my finger. The ring had been with me ever since I had left my homeland for the first time. I had no idea which woman of my tribe it had belonged to. I took the other ring off my finger and held it out to him. He looked at the intricate weave of stag antlers for a second before putting it on. I didn't bother telling him to hide it from Yseult.

"Tristan." I said. He looked at me. "You need to take a bath. You smell."

He looked at me strangely for a moment before cracking a smile. It brought back memories of all the times I had bullied him into taking baths. I had even threatened to abandon his bed on a number of occasions. He looked away at the wall and then turned back to say something.

"You look different." He said letting his eyes travel over me. "More beautiful."

I gave him a quiet smile and entered my room. That was enough for tonight. Enough for me.

* * *

Sorry about the wait, but I think some feedback is in order. After all, it was extra long and there was chorus of angels singing Tristan! 


	34. Love

And if anyone was wondering, Yseult's name is ee-zolt. Sounds similar to Isolde.

* * *

I was asleep. Nooo…I was awake…Something was pressing on my mouth. Something wet. And warm air was tickling my nose. And prickly things were scratching my face. I opened my eyes groggily. Someone was _kissing_ me! Tawny ropes of hair fell around me. The man kissed me a little harder before pulled away and standing up.

"Hello Gawain." I said with a painfully large smile.

"Isolde." He said nodding roguishly. "Miss me?"

In answer to his question, I tackled him to the floor and kissed him like I had never kissed anyone. Several long moments later, he folded his arms under his head and smiled in that ridiculous manly sort of way.

"I wonder what the other women will do…" Gawain said.

"When did you get here?" I said slapping his shoulder.

"Last night. We were bone tired, so I figured I'd come see you this morning. Or should I say afternoon." He said. Ahhh. I remembered the massive amounts of ale I had consumed the night before. That would explain the faint pounding in my head…

"We? You brought Galahad?" I asked excitedly. He shook his head.

"No. Galahad won't be long though. No, I brought…." He trailed off to increase the suspense. "My wife!"

I promptly fell off him.

"Wife?"

"Wife."

"_Wife_?"

"Wife!"

"Well where the hell is she?" I asked. Gawain groaned and stood up.

"Ragnelle!" He called out. A moment or so passed before I heard a scuffling noise. A very petite woman appeared at my doorway. She had a smile that quirked to one side and a wavy hash of bronze hair. And she was about as pregnant as Guineve. I looked at Gawain in an appalled manner as I counted the months in my head.

"Gawain! It's only been-" I began.

"Well, I told you the first thing I was going to do was find-" He started in defense.

"Oh for the love of Kolaksay!" I said shutting him up. I turned back the young woman.

"Hello. I am Isolde." I said politely.

"I am Ragnelle." She said. "And you mustn't get mad at Gawain. He can't help it."

Oh I liked this one. She was _good._

"Very amusing." Gawain said gruffly, not liking the idea of being made fun of by the two main women in his life. "Ragnelle, would you like to go sit with Guinevere? She's not going down to the amphitheatre either."

Gawain's wife considered it for a moment.

"I think I will. I don't fancy the idea of sitting out there in the cold." She leant down and kissed him on the cheek. "It was nice to meet you Isolde."

I nodded.

"Well." I said after she left. "You really did find her."

Gawain looked too relaxed and triumphant for my liking.

"Of course." His smile faded a bit. "Lancelot told me about Tristan."

He wasn't giving me the same piteous look the others had. It was a somber look. I was filled with a rush of love for my friend. I could talk to Lancelot about the pain of it if I wished, but Gawain would be the better man to talk to about how I felt.

"She's…Well, you saw her that first night. Temperamental. Self-righteous." Gawain nodded and curled his lip. I didn't feel guilty at the words I spoke. They were true. Now I needed to refrain from calling her ugly.

"Tristan has finally cracked." He said after a moment. "I knew it would happen one day… Always twiddling around with that bird. Too many trips alone…"

I couldn't help it. I laughed until my sides hurt. Gawain and perhaps Galahad were the only ones who could make me laugh about such a despondent topic. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Well. You're when are you going to talk to him?" He asked me seriously. I gave him a look.

"Ah. You weren't going to say anything to the scout." Gawain said understand my look. "Isolde, I have loved you since I met you."

My lips quirked as I looked at him warmly.

"But I must tell you; To let him go because you are afraid is a cowardly act." He said. His voice was not unkind and I saw how sad his eyes were. I didn't cry or flinch. I took it. I let it go because I knew it was true.

"I know." I said quietly. I was filled with a new resolve suddenly. I wanted to tell Tristan. Courage surged through me like the hot red blood that pumped through my veins. I had never known this type of courage before. I did not fear did, therefore it could not be called bravery when I faced it. I did not fear doing what was necessary, so I had never been valiant in that aspect. I had never thought of myself as brave, but now I wanted to be. I wanted to use this courage and tell Tristan that I loved him.

I waited a moment for the euphoria to fade lest I do something stupid.

"I will tell him." I said to Gawain suddenly.

"Why not show him?" He said suggestively.

"I am not going to molest Tristan." I said flatly.

"It's not bad if he wants it..." Gawain said persuasively.

"Ugh." I said shaking my head. "You tricked her into marrying you didn't you?"

"That hurts. I wasn't suggesting that you rip his clothes off in front of everyone and-"

"Ugh!"

* * *

And so Gawain and I gathered our weapons and rode out to the amphitheatre. It was quite a bustling place actually. Spectators had poured into the stands near the edge where most of the fighting was going on. Well…I suspected this wasn't the place to confess my love.

"I see you two decided to finally grace us with your presence." Lancelot said loftily.

"Oh yes. Well I needed my rest." I said uncaringly. My face turned serious. "Now my flower, would you like to show us all how you twirl those pretty swords?"

Lancelot unsheathed both swords at the challenge. Bors and Tristan stopped fighting immediately. Even the Saracens looked on with interest.

"Ready?" He asked as I made sure my machaira was loose in its sheath. I drew Pata and held the shield with my other hand. I eyed our surroundings. The ground was completely flat, and we had plenty of room to move about. On the other hand, the ground was slippery from melted snow and dirt. I cocked my head to the side in a predator's stance and examined my friend. Lancelot was heavy on the offensive. His two swords would come flying at me in every direction. It took a lot of concentration to keep both swords at bay, but if I could manage to keep his swords busy for a moment… Yes that would work. Lancelot relied so heavily on his offense that he left himself open. Of course, most of his enemies did not live long enough to take advantage of that. I said nothing in response to his question. Instead I began to circle.

"My money's on Isolde." Bors said loudly.

"I'll take that bet." Safir called out.

Lancelot gave me a wicked smile before launching himself at me. I threw my shield in front of myself and let it take the blows from Lancelot's swords. Before he could snake a blade under my shield, I twisted and swung the shield. The half moon caught one of his swords and held it. Now we were locked together with one sword apiece. I swung violently at his head and he parried it. He misjudged how hard he needed to block and soon his arm was swinging away from his torso. I took the opportunity to slice at his chest, but was thwarted as he twisted and rammed against me. The shield flew upwards and jarred my shoulder painfully. I ducked his next swing and my attack grew fiercer. I sliced my shield at his head and he whipped backwards. Pata barely missed slicing his thigh.

Safir was looking discouraged now. March cheered from the stands. Lancelot was not to be deterred however. He feinted attacking my front so I slammed my shield at him. I was unpleasantly surprised when his foot slammed upwards towards the shield. To keep my arm from being snapped like a twig, I let go and watched as the thing flew several feet away into the mud. I was forced to draw the machaira. Lancelot's smile was triumphant now. I straightened up for a moment. Lancelot took this as a sign of weakness and charged at me. I ducked low to the ground and swung the machaira in an arc. Lancelot was forced to hop to avoid the blade. When he came back down I kicked his legs. He slipped and fell into the icy mud. I laid Pata at his throat neatly. He looked up at me, shocked. We stood up and Bors laughed.

"Well done." Dagonet said clapping me on the shoulder. Palomides stepped forward.

"Lady, any king would be lucky to have such a fine warrior." He said sincerely. I smiled at the Saracen.

"Majesty," Safir said amusedly as he stepped forward. Apparently he did not mine losing his bet to Bors. "Wed the lady to my brother and he will serve you all his days."

Lancelot laughed and looked to Arthur.

"Yes Arthur! Send her away! You cannot know the toll this is taking on my pride." He called out jovially.

Palomides smiled kindly at me, and I laughed.

"Run away with me lady!" He said chivalrously and held out his hand. I took his hand and laughed even more.

"I accept!" I joked. Suddenly Lancelot was rubbing his whole body against me. He hopped away and I looked down on my form. He had smeared mud all over me.

"Shall I avenge you lady?" Palomides asked half seriously. I felt like blushing every time someone called me lady.

"Absolutely." I said with mock serious. "Rub his face in the mud when you are finished with him."

Palomides drew his sword, and Lancelot pretended to sag against Arthur.

"Well, who's going to defend _my _honor?" Lancelot asked faintly.

"Unless you look like Isolde under that tunic, no one." Gawain said drolly.

Tristan stepped forward and drew his curved blade. Lancelot gave me a knowing look at and I stepped on his foot.

"A kiss to the winner!" Arthur declared. I imagined myself throwing them all off a very high cliff. It was a _conspiracy_. Palomides stepped out into the area we had cleared for them. He drew a large saber and shook off his cloak. Safir caught it and handed it to another man. I made my way over to the stands where Ealasaid sat with her brother and a few young women. Yseult was sitting on the end of the group. March stuck a hand down and pulled me up into the stands. I sat in between the brother and sister and rubbed my hands together.

"So Isolde. A kiss to the winner? Who do you hope wins?" March asked in his lilted voice, knowing full well that Yseult sat not three feet away. At his words, Yseult stood up and walked away.

"March. You shouldn't upset her like that." Ealasaid said as she watched the two men circle each other. Two heads peeked around from Ealasaid and looked at me. It was the two girls from the feast. The dark haired one was giving me a very calculated look. I suspected she was friends with Yseult.

"Isolde, this is Ethne, Kaherdin's woman." Ealasaid spoke as she motioned to the dark haired girl. I nodded in acknowledgment. "And this is Andrivete, Cador's daughter."

The pale girl smiled politely at me. My fingers stiffening with the cold. I clamped them between my legs and watched my breath fog in front of my face. Palomides lunged at Tristan, who parried the blow with frightening ease. He let the Saracen attack again with similar results. It was almost as if he was-

"Toying with him. Your scout is just toying with him." March said into my ear. It was true. Palomides was a strong man who relied on heavy strokes like Dagonet. Tristan was too graceful and swift for him.

"He shouldn't humiliate him." I said as my eyes followed Tristan's movements. "Arthur's hoping he'll swear to be our ally."

"Well, perhaps you shouldn't have played along with Safir's marriage joke. Then the scout wouldn't be trying to slice him open." March said pointedly. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't give me that look. Tristan and I don't really spend much time with each other obviously, but I can think of no other reason why he would dislike the Saracen. By the way, is it awkward sitting here with me knowing that we've laid naked in bed together?"

I slapped my hand to my forehead. Dear gods… I turned my attention back the fight. It was starting to look like Palomides might have a chance. He swung over and over again at Tristan, trying to wear the man of a more slight build down. Tristan parried one particularly savage blow and spun in an arc. His sword purposefully missed slashing Palomides head from his body, but the win was evident. Bors cheered loudly. Gawain and Lancelot walked over and yanked my down.

"I am going to cut off both of your manhoods." I said in a sinister voice as they carried me to the victor.

"It's not my manhood you should be concerned with." Lancelot whispered. "Though I see how you cannot help yourself…"

Palomides looked slightly embarrassed, but the man handled it well. Arthur looked highly pleased. Bastards. All of them… The two asses that carried me set me down in front of Tristan who looked as calm as ever under his dark braids. I wondered if he had noticed that Yseult was gone. Perhaps he would say he would want his prize later. And later I could find him in private and kiss him and _then_ tell him I loved him. Apparently, Tristan wasn't thinking the same thing. He put a hand on the back of my neck and pulled me forward. His braids brushed my face as he pulled me against his lips. I noticed he had not bent at all to kiss me. He was standing stiffly. That wasn't exactly fair I decided. I was having to strain to hold the position. I grabbed the throat of his tunic and pulled him down. This time another hand went the small of my back. He was careful not to kiss me any longer than Gawain or Galahad might of, and as he stepped back, his face was blank. I realized I had not kissed him in over half a year. Something that had lain dormant in me awakened and I felt a fire rushing through my cheeks and stomach.

"Tristan, lemme ask you somethin'." Bors said slouching with one hand on his hip. "Why is it that when you win a kiss from a young, beautiful woman" at this point Lancelot nodded and motioned towards his chest to indicate my breasts, "and you kiss her like she's your sister?"

Tristan didn't bother answering. Perhaps it seemed odd to the others, but it was just Tristan to me. He was involving with another woman. It wouldn't be like him to give a woman, no matter what woman, a passionate kiss in those circumstances. It would have been strange with everyone watching. I would rather it be in private when we could-

"Isolde, you bring any food?" Bors yawned.

"No. I'm hungry though." I said.

"You're always hungry." Tristan muttered.

"Calling me fat?" I asked nonchalantly.

"No." He said in his accented voice without even looking at me. I started off to where I had tied up Scosin. Tristan followed and mounted his own ride. We rode out into the dismal land surrounding Caerleon. We rode in silence for much of the way. My courage was dwindling…I struggled to find the right words. Nothing had ever been this difficult. I tried to force the words out of my mouth. Once it was done, I would feel better. Or would I? I was assuming that he returned my love… Well…

"You shouldn't humiliate Palomides. We may need him" I said. Tristan shrugged.

"He wants Arthur to give him a high ranking wife. You shouldn't encourage him." Tristan said in response.

"I am not going to wed the Saracen." I said flatly. More silence.

"Tristan. When I first met you, I didn't like you." I said suddenly. It sounded childish to my ears.

"Well, I liked you." He said aloofly. I felt like I couldn't just blurt out that I loved him. I felt like I need to explain how I felt…

"Tristan." I said again. He was listening intently, waiting for it go somewhere. "Before I left for Sarmatia, a young woman made me curious about something. You never said you didn't want a family, but I always assumed the answer was no. Was I right?"

This was an odd way to confess one's love… Tristan gave me a strange look.

"I wouldn't mind a son or a daughter." He said simply.

"And what of the mother? Would you love her? Marry her?" I asked intently. He stopped his horse and looked at me blankly.

"I hope so." Was all he said. I turned back around. "But not all women want a family."

I turned back around. I wasn't going to speak in riddles.

"I do. I want a husband. I want a child." I said plainly. We rode into the domus gates. I walked Scosin into the stables quickly. I dismounted and began to take off his saddle. Tristan occupied the box next to me. He looked up when he finished and gave me an unreadable look. I think he was beginning to understand what I wanted to say.

"I love you." I said as loudly as I could. My voice was barely above a whisper. I saw Tristan's shoulders tense and knuckles whiten on the hands that clenched a railing. I thought about if for a moment. I had just laid my pride and my heart on the floor in front of him. My wanted nothing more than to walk quietly out of that building that smelt of horse and dirt and worse things. Tristan was obviously having some trouble deciding how to respond. With no further declarations to make, I walked out of the stables.

* * *

Ta da! Declaration of love! Review if you please. 


	35. Saxons

**modernprincess**- Really? I'm flattered.

**Kafan**- Yay! Goosebumps are awesome.

**Blue Eyes At Night**- Making with the love? Hahahahah I like that one. I'm sooo glad you think my story is funny. I try to keep it sort of like the movie. Serious, but with the occasional laugh.

**Red Dragon10**- Yeah I figured that since it was Isolde, it should just be plain and simple, but yet show how hard it was for her to say it.

**Kay50**- Exactly!

**Kungfuchick**- Hell yeah I'm gonna update! A knight's tale will probably be updated in a day or two. A Braid of Fortunes will be updated after I finish this story in all likelihood. Which will be soon. Not this chapter so don't worry!

**Tabi**- Yesss! Thank you! That's why I started the story without the other knights. I wanted the story to be about Isolde! I didn't just want people reading it because it was a Tristan romance. And if I could give you Lancelot, I would just for this review.

**Shpadana Zizais**- Wow what type of review is that? I can't tell if you like it or if you hate it.

**Dellis**- Hard isn't it? Yeah I've been trying to figure out how do it for weeks…Finally I was just like 'ah the hell with it'.

**SnoDragon**- Don't say that! Haha! But I thank you. And I mean it has so end sometime I guess…Well maybe I could just write about the mundane details of the rest of their lives…I hope you enjoy the sequel.

**MonDieu666-** That means a lot to me coming from you because your story was kickass!

So sorry about all the stupid errors in that last chapter. I was so excited to write it and I wanted it to be worded perfectly so I kept backspacing and rewriting. That's why most of the errors are with the verbs.

Ooooh you all didn't think I would let them have it that easy did you? Muahaha. You are all going to _hate _me after this. Sorry, having a power trip.

* * *

I made my way to Guinevere's chambers and knocked on her door. She answered after a moment and examined my pale face and shaking hands.

"I need to talk to you." I said.

"Meet me at the gate in a few minutes." She said and closed the door quietly. I walked back to the knight wing. In a hallway nearby, I found Yseult sitting in a windowsill. Hiding from Tristan no doubt. Her eyes fell upon me and became hostile.

"Do you love him?" She asked as her cheeks grew pink, ready for a fight. I raised an eyebrow. I had told Tristan the extent of my feelings for him. If he chose to keep Yseult as his lover, than I would not begrudge her for it. After all, when I wasn't watching her fondle the man I loved, she wasn't too annoying.

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"I need to know." She said standing up.

"If Tristan loves you, than you have nothing to fear from me or any other woman." I said honestly.

"I love him." She said as if that made her better than me. I cocked my head at her for a moment before speaking coldly.

"When you love someone, you do not grow jealous of every move they make. You do not hold back from them over petty things. You do not cause someone grief if you love them. And you do not make them scramble to appease you." I said all this quietly but not cruelly. "Be careful what you call love."

The girl looked at me with a startled expression. I strode away. I ducked into Lancelot's room and kissed the forehead of the sleeping Geraint. I went to my own room and put on a thick brown cloak over my coat. I would still be cold, but I would survive. I walked out of my room to find Yseult waiting for me. I nearly groaned.

"Are you saying I'm not in love with him?" She asked while trying to control her voice. I ignored her and walked past. She followed me angrily to the gates where Guinevere waited. She looked concernedly at Yseult who was stalking behind me.

"Keep walking." I said and grabbed the pregnant woman's arm. We walked quickly down the street with Yseult following us.

"Go home Yseult." I called out.

"If you wish to talk to Isolde, it will have to wait." Guinevere said rigidly and I recognized it as the command of queen. Apparently an order from the high queen of Britain wasn't good enough for Yseult. She wasn't relenting.

"Do you love him?" Yseult called out. Before I could say anything, another voice called out.

"Ah! May we join you on your walk?" Ealasaid asked as she and Andrivete neared us. I felt like screaming. We were just leaving the city walls. Guinevere looked at me painfully for a moment. She was the high queen and she had to entertain her subjects. Especially Ealasaid, her own cousin, and Andrivete, Arthur's niece.

"Of course." I answered for her. It was cold outside. Very cold. Guinevere wrapped her cloak tightly around her bulging stomach. The five us ambled along a dirt road for some distance. At first the talking had been awkward as Ealasaid and Andrivete had come to realize that we had not simply wanted to go on a walk. But then we adapted as we must.

"Did Ragnelle sit with you any?" I asked Guinevere. The cold air was driving thoughts of Tristan away from my mind slowly but surely. She nodded and gave me a grin.

"I like her. I think she and Gawain suit each other." She said humerously. "Those two are probably going to stay home like Vanora does during feasts."

"I think I may just join them." I drawled.

"You had better not." Ealasaid said pleasantly. "I need someone to talk to."

Conversation halted for a few minutes.

"What will happen with Caradoc and Turquine?" Yseult asked curiously. She had seemingly resigned to the fact that she could not verbally attack me at that moment.

"They left in the night." Guinevere said and suddenly her voice was guarded and her eyes were narrowed. Her chagrin was not at Yseult however. I knew that this sudden…departure was not just an insult. It was a proclamation of enmity. They would not support Arthur or his allies.

"When do you think they will act?" I asked calmly. There was a battle coming. I could feel it.

"There is a dead man over there." Andrivete said stopping her tracks. We all looked at the girl who's face had drained to the color of bone. I looked in the direction that she was staring at. At the forest line, there was indeed a body.

"Stop." I said as Yseult began to walk towards it. I looked around. We had not a sword between us. Ealasaid, Guinevere and I carried daggers in our belts. We would be relatively defenseless to a threat. I looked grimly at the body. A man did not just drop dead of his own accord at the edge of a forest. Yseult gave me a defiant look as she moved towards the body. At least she was moving quietly. Guinevere began to follow and I sighed. We walked stealthily over to the body. Yseult reached it first and flipped the man over to his back. Andrivete took a step backwards as the arrow sticking out of the man's chest came into view. It was embedded very deeply into the torso of the unfortunate man. Judging by the man's clothes and dirty hands, I took him for a farmer. Why would someone kill a farmer? I noted the angle at which the man had been found. The moment before his death, he would have been facing the bowels of the wooded area. Who ever had killed him had been in the forest. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I felt that same unholy silence reverberate from the forest like the day Branwain had died. I knelt quickly next to the farmer and examined the arrow in his chest. It was not a normal arrow. It had been fired from a crossbow. A Saxon crossbow. We needed to go. I hauled Guinevere up as I looked back towards Caerleon. It was out of sight.

"That's a Saxon cross bolt." I whispered harshly. Guinevere said nothing. She calmly pulled Andrivete away from the body.

"Let's go." I whispered to Yseult. When she did not act quickly, I dug my fingers into her arm and pulled her up to meet my eyes.

"There are Saxons nearby." Her eyes widened. I knew that we would not get far if we were sighted. We began to walk briskly away.

"Halt." I heard a guttural voice call out. We froze. I turned around quickly. Seven Saxons had appeared from behind a knoll and more were emerging from the behind trees. There were at least fifteen crossbows aimed at us.

"Do not move." I said quietly to the others. "No heroics. No panicking."

We waited several minutes in that agonized state until a large man with sloppy, tawny hair appeared. This was their leader I decided.

He said something in the brutal tongue of the Saxons to one of the other men. There were coarse laughs all around. He looked at Ealasaid.

"Who are you?" He asked. She said nothing. He walked forward and examined us all. I knew what he would see. Fine clothes and Guinevere's bulging belly. I fought the urge to pull the queen behind me. I suddenly feared for the life of her child. The man examined our faces intently. He pulled Andrivete forward. She was meekest in build and mind. A huge, haggard hand closed about her throat violently.

"You have only moments to live if you do not tell me the names of each woman here." He said loudly in her ear. She whimpered and clawed at his hands and face. He smiled cruelly and held her out of reach of his face.

"What is your name?" He said clearly as he put emphasis on each word. She resisted for a moment.

"Andrivete." She said miserably. She was fighting not to cry. I wanted to rip the man's throat out.

"And the one with child?" He asked. Ealasaid shook her head warningly. Andrivete snapped her mouth shut. Tears streamed quietly down her face as he applied more pressure. The color in her face was awful. Guinevere was squeezing my wrist so hard I thought the bone might break. Yseult leapt forward and tried to grab his dagger. Stupid girl!

"Saxon dog!" She snarled. He was too quick however. He dodged her and struck her across the face. She was flung towards the dirt. I was thankful for his action as much as I was disgusted. If she had managed to get his blade, she would have been felled with over twenty cross bolts in seconds. I snatched her up and held her to my side. She moaned and leaned against my shoulder. I was amazed the girl was still conscious.

A Saxon spoke out to the leader. The man smiled wolfishly after he finished.

"He says the woad queen is with child." He said and began to circle us. He stopped in front of Guinevere and plucked at the gold brooch she wore. "Greetings your highness."

Guinevere visibly stiffened.

"I am the high queen of Britain." She said after a moment. Her voice was not pompous or regal, it was low and deadly. "And you are on my land."

"Forgive me, you majesty. But lord Caradoc informed me that Caerleon was not well guarded. I could not pass up the opportunity to obtain such fine trophies. Caerleon and your husband's head that is…" He said as if he found the whole thing to be amusing. He was mad I decided. I would slit my own throat before I let this man cut off Arthur's head.

"You would need an army to do that." Guinevere said looking down her nose at the beast. "And I see no more than a hundred men."

"No. I would need a few men to slip inside the gates at night and kill the guards." He said and I felt my heart skip a beat. A hundred men were quite a threat if the entire city was asleep. "Of course, killing your husband will have to wait for now. Your ransom would be enough to make me the richest king on this island. And of course there is the ransom that will be paid for the other ladies."

He directed the last part at us. That would be quite a ransom. I was born a to an old knight and his wife on the steppes of Sarmatia and even I would fetch a nice price. Arthur would give what he could and along with the rest of the knights, and I had no doubt Modron and Kaherdin would supply a hefty sum.

The man was done talking however. He barked a command to his men and soon they were bustling around in the forest, erasing signs they had ever been there. Two Saxons grabbed the dead man's body and took it with them into the forest for disposal. Several men came forward and began bind our hands and gagging our mouths. I calmly allowed the man to wrench my hands behind my back and rope them together. I had no idea where they were taking us. I prayed to every god I knew that Arthur would send Tristan to look for us. If Tristan came upon this place, he would know immediately that Saxons had been here.

* * *

We were forced to stumble along with the Saxons for days over the icy hills of Britain. Snow fell every night and on every other day it seemed. By the sixth day Guinevere had dark circles under her eyes and Andrivete was ill looking. Meleagan, the Saxon leader, seemed to notice also. Four men disappeared and returned at the end of the day with a wagon that had seen too many journeys already and a packhorse that looked ready to keel over. It served its purpose well enough however. For the next week we rode in the wagon while the Saxons walked surrounding it. I was aware that we were heading southeast into territory vulnerable to Saxons. One night however, a young man was thrown at the feet of Meleagan by two scouts. He was a Briton.

"Boy, are you loyal to your king?" Meleagan asked leaning close to the young man. The man looked at him square in the face.

"Yes." He said loud enough for all to hear. He probably expected to be killed on the spot. Instead Meleagan smiled.

"Then take this horse and go tell your king I have his wife and her ladies." He said chillingly. The young man paled and looked at us. A burly man grabbed the Briton by the shoulders and nearly threw him into the saddle. In moments the young man was riding in the direction of Caerleon, no doubt expecting an arrow to lodge itself in his back at any moment. Soon however, he was gone from our sight into the darkness and we continued on.

* * *

"Welcome to my home." Meleagan said as a fortress came into view. On top of a hill, the small stone fort was surrounded by a stone wall. Beyond that, encompassing a town like area, was a wooden wall. Rarely had I stayed in a fort or city that was not Roman influenced. Small wooden huts and molded stone buildings formed the Saxon community. Guinevere chose not to respond. We were led to the fort, a blunt looking building of stone. Meleagan sat in a throne like chair and looked down on us as we were forced to our knees. Saxons began pooling into the hall. I looked around at these people who had come to take the land I now called my home. Most had fair or ruddy hair, though some had darker hair. They wore simple woolen tunics, longer ones for the women. They were all staring at the five of us. Some had hostility in their eyes, some had plain curiosity. They muttered in their guttural tongue and pointed at us. Yseult was shooting back equally ferocious glares, and I fought the urge to kick her. Andrivete had positioned herself half behind Ealasaid in a fearful manner.

"Your king will raise the ransom for you. He will bring in here and you will be set free." Meleagan said speaking very clearly. "And next year, we can start the war all over again, only then we will have the means do carry on until we have conquered this entire island."

The man had just informed us that he planned to go through with the ransom with some degree of honor. He would not have us killed just to spite Arthur. But now we all had something worse to fear. Our ransom would make this Saxon king twice as powerful. An old man appeared from a doorway behind the throne. He limped over to Meleagan's side and clenched the back of the throne for support. He and his son argued heatedly for a few moments before Meleagan seemed to relent.

Meleagan yelled out to his people and suddenly there was utter silence as they looked at him. He said something and there were several hearty laughs, no doubt at our expense. Meleagan's voice became more serious this time as he spoke. Their expressions became more somber at ever syllable. He turned back to us.

"My father says that your men will not want you back if you are defiled. So for now, you do not need to fear my men. This does not mean that if you try to escape or send a message out that you will be go without punishment. I'll have all of you flogged for such an act." He said simply as if he were used to doling out such punishments. I looked at the father who was examining us with a guarded expression. What he had told his son was not true. Arthur would pay all the ransom he could muster whether we had been touched or not. Was this man just assuming, or had he known? Meleagan motioned to a man standing nearby. The fair-haired man stepped forward and waited expectantly. Meleagan spoke sharply to him and the man nodded. He turned to the men who stood at our backs, and they hauled us to our feet.

We were led to a vulgar looking hovel positioned near the stone wall. It was no more than a wooden shack with a poorly thatched room. It had been planted in a slight hole so that it was almost like pit. This was to be our dungeon. The door was opened and we were shoved in. The man began to shut the door and I watched as the light that had poured in through the opening disappeared in the direction of the door, abandoning us to the darkness. I turned around and looked at my companions' faces that glowed in the faint light that wafted down through the imperfections in the thatched roof. I knew that this deal was not going to happen as Meleagan planned.

* * *

Please don't hunt me down and kill me. Anyways, I might not be able to update for a week. I'm hoping I will be able to update before then so I will try! Review please. 


	36. Cai

Uh… Baudemic (Melegean's father) isn't going to really be helpful, but he's got a sense of honor. And he is not king or chief, Melegean is. Saxons weren't very strict with the king for life thing. Whoever was the strongest leader and warrior took control when he could. Melegean is ambitious and ruthless so he managed to push his father off the throne. Yeah so…

Shpadana Zizais- I'm really glad that you like the story, and I like your honesty. But in my defense, a slower pace was my intention. After all, King Arthur is the greatest move ever and I couldn't hope to make my story as exciting. But I'm sorry that you think my writing has gone down. Do you actually think the writing or the plot is the sucky part? I'm not trying to make it anticlimactic, I'm just preparing for the sequel. Which will be slightly different, but it will be a continuation of Arthur's reign.

SnoDragon- Um…In a lot of the legends Guinevere has various sons but none of them live longer than her or Arthur. And same goes for Arthur. But Arthur also has a close relative who…Well you'll see. Anyways I decided to make this relative his son. Whew!

MonDieu666- I'm blushing! Really!

Lilstrummrgrl576- Thanks! I have to keep a list of characters ahahha!

Blue Eyes At Night- That was a beautiful poem hehehe.

Ok Sorry its not my best chap, but I'm trying to keep yall from dying from a lack of update.

* * *

A week had passed and we had heard no news of Arthur. We had not left the damned prison the whole time. Our clothes were soiled and our complexions pallid. Guinevere seemed calm on the surface, but there was some agonized panic half hidden in her eyes. I suppose this _hut _was not as macabre as the dungeon Marius Honorius had kept her captive in, but I had no doubt that it brought back memories that she wanted to forget.

"This is infected." Ealasaid said as she examined Andrivete's arm. Andrivete had cut her arm on a splintering piece of wood two days before and the wound had turned a foul looking purple. Yseult looked at the girl and began pacing back and forth angrily.

"She needs help." She fumed. "And that bastard needs to keep us somewhere else."

"Arthur will come soon." Guinevere said rubbing her stomach. I was worried about the baby. The days were cold and the nights were freezing. The damp earth that we slept on was frosted in the mornings, and all we had were several tattered blankets. Not the best conditions for a pregnant woman. Ealasaid looked around at our dirt covered faces and stood up with a determined face. She stalked over to the heavy wooden door and slammed her fist against it. There was a grumble and our handsome jailer opened the door. The young man looked at the flaxen haired Ealasaid nervously.

"What do you need?" He asked awkwardly in our tongue.

"A lot of things." She said sharply. "But right now we need more methods of keeping warm at night other than these rags you call blankets, and I need the materials to treat the girl's arm. Clean water and cloth. Comfrey if you can get it."

He looked doubtful. He peered around Ealasaid and towards Andrivete. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were flaming with fever even in the darkness. I was surprised to see his eyes soften at the sight of the weakened young woman. He nodded and shut the door. Half an hour passed before he returned with several blankets of better condition. He set them down and then walked over to where Ealasaid knelt by Andrivete. An older Saxon man stood guard at the door while the young Saxon assisted us. He silently handed the healer woad a bowl of clean water and the other items she had asked for. She motioned towards his dagger.

"Knife." She said impatiently. He looked from Ealasaid to Andrivete apprehensively, unsure of giving a blade to a captive. Andrivete gave a small moan and tossed her head. That did it. He quickly handed the dagger to Ealasaid who wiped it clean and punctured the wound. I looked away as it oozed. She cleaned it with the water and made a satisfied sound as the flesh bled, showing that it was still healthy. She compressed the herbs he had brought to it and tied it with a piece of cloth.

"I have seen that infection before. She will be fine." The Saxon said as he took back his weapon.

"This place isn't helping her condition." The woad said somberly. He looked uncomfortable for a moment and stood up quickly. When the door was shut, I looked to Guinevere to see if she had noticed what I had.

"He likes her." I said quietly. She nodded and looked to door contemplatively. I wondered if his liking for Andrivete would be useful at some point.

"Your hair is foul." Guinevere said plainly after a few moments. I touched my brown locks, now nearly black with grease and dirt. It was matted to my head in strings.

"You aren't very pretty either." I yawned as I leaned my head against the shabby wall.

"What's taking them so long?" Yseult asked. Guinevere coughed and shook her head. Her dark locks swayed in vile clumps instead of feathery ropes. I hated being dirty. I _loathed_ it.

"It has only been a week. The Briton Meleagan sent to Arthur probably only arrived yesterday. And then it will take days of talking before anything can be decided on."

I mulled over this. Arthur was not a man to pay ransom, though I knew he would if it came down to it. His first and most powerful instinct would be to raise an army. I hoped he decided to raise an army. Plans began formulating in my mind. When? From where? How many? Looking around at our dismal conditions, I could only pray it was soon. But how difficult would it be to raise an army when the Saxons were not our only enemies? I hoped the brothers Caradoc and Turquine were murdered in their sleep. The bastards had betrayed their own people to the Saxons.

* * *

Another week passed. It had been a month since we had been taken captive near Caerleon. Guinevere's stomach had grown since then, and I realized that it would not be long before the child was born. The baby should be born at the end of winter or the beginning of spring. The hardest part of the winter was passing. Snow no longer fell as heavily and some of it melted each day.

"Isolde, the baby is kicking again." Guinevere said motioning me over. This sort of thing had become one of my only sources of amusement. I put my hand on the huge stomach of the queen and waited. I felt a tiny foot push against my palm after a few moments. I smiled and jerked my hand away. It was so strange…

"Does it hurt?" I asked my friend tentatively. It seemed unlikely I would ever experience this odd pregnancy and motherhood part of life, but I was still curious. It appeared to me that it would be painful to have another person inside of you kicking around all your innards and ribs.

"It can be painful. Mostly it just feels odd." Guinevere said. Her prominent jaw shifted to form a wry smile. "I won't be sad when this is over."

"Ha. You just wait for the birthing pains." Ealasaid laughed. "Battle is nothing compared to it."

I was suddenly unsure of whether I even wanted a baby… Perhaps I was better off being childless. Guinevere squared her jaw as if bracing herself for it. I had no doubt that the warrior queen would handle childbirth with a certain amount of dignity.

"I cannot wait to be a mother." Andrivete said nursing her healing arm. Ealasaid's ministrations had banished the infection in the first few days. Now all that was left was for the skin to heal up.

"Well, go find a man." I said scrubbing at my face.

"It's hard to find a good man in these times." Ealasaid said absentmindedly picking at the hem of her tunic. I snorted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Yseult look at me sharply, but I was beyond caring. If both of us got out of there alive, Tristan could pick whoever the bloody hell he wanted. I think I loved him enough to let him go. Nevertheless, I hoped upon hope that he loved me in return. I felt so cheated. I had been gone from him for months, only to be carried off days after my return. I missed him with a fierce ache. It wasn't only his face or his company. I had not been with a man for so long it seemed. And even then, the last man had been March, not the man I wanted to make my husband. I missed those damned braids and his perpetual frown and all the odd things about him. I missed every scar I had discovered and the way he twitched when I touched his neck. I missed the silence that we had between us. The silence that wasn't lonely in the least bit. It was a silence that was thick with things that didn't have to be said and a friendship that didn't need to be flaunted. I missed…I missed…I missed Tristan. I just wanted to see his face. I hoped that if he loved me, that he didn't feel terrible that I was gone. I hoped that if he _didn't_ love me, he wasn't disgusted or upset by my words of love. And that if he did not feel the same love that I felt for him, that he would still want to be my companion.

If I wasn't careful, my thoughts could easily drive me mad. I had to push every thought of it all away. I could not change anything at that moment. I needed to breath. I took a long, soothing drink of air and held it. When I let it go, my mind seemed clearer.

"I'm hungry." I said after a few moments.

"I could eat a horse." Yseult said in agreement as she stared longingly into nothing, dreaming of food. We had been given stale bread and some pasty sort of porridge that morning, but nothing since then. Looking up into the gapping straw roof, I could see that it was well into the evening. I cursed the Saxons inwardly. I liked my figure to be full. A month of captivity had diminished my curves slightly, and I was fairly annoyed. Not to mention the rest of me was well, disgusting. On the bright side of things, at least no Saxon would find any of us to be tempting.

"Andrivete, go tell the guard that we are hungry." Guinevere said giving me a look. Andrivete looked at her curiously but obeyed her kinswoman. She shuffled over to the door and knocked tentatively. The guard opened the door partially and jumped a little when he saw Andrivete. I saw a blush spread to her cheeks in a charming manner. This was good. Very good.

"We…" Andrivete trailed shyly. "We are very hungry."

"Oh! Yes." He said awkwardly. He closed the door sharply and we heard him speak to another man outside. The door opened again. "Sorry. You will have food soon."

Andrivete gave him a shy, thankful smile, and he shut the door again. I smiled thoughtfully and closed my eyes. I wondered what Mordred was doing. I missed the boy who I had begun to look upon as partially my own. I hoped he was not worrying to much. Lucan and Gilly would keep him company. I loved the quiet, clever nature that Mordred demonstrated, but I wanted him to be happy more. He was too serious for a boy.

Minutes later, the door was opened again and our food was doled out. Mm. Stale bread and cold soup. Delicious.

"I'm going to be sick if I eat this." Yseult said as she set the food down.

"Eat it." I said dipping the rock hard bread into the watery soup. "Or you will grow weak."

She looked as if she would refuse for a moment, but then she followed my example. I was becoming more and more aware of how dangerous this situation was becoming. We were all getting a little frantic, though we did our best to hide it. That created a tense atmosphere that made us more likely to do foolish things. Even more paramount was Guinevere's growing belly. The conditions were very bad for her health, but that wasn't what worried me. The Saxon had promised to return us to Arthur, but I did not know if that generosity went for the child. How easy would it be to kill or hold hostage the high king's child? A voice in the back of my mind spoke up. _Mordred_. Arthur had an heir already whether he knew it or not. I was still determined to save my friend's infant.

* * *

My eyes snapped open. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the tar like darkness. Voices had woken me up I realized. I lifted my head ever so slightly and looked to where the sounds were coming from. In the darkness I made out a pale cloud of hair positioned near the door. Andrivete. Her voice was low as she spoke towards the shabby wall and door. I wasn't surprised to hear a deeper voice say something back to her. I wanted to laugh. It was mad. Andrivete and our jailer were infatuated with each other. Gods above.

The next day Andrivete seemed a bit more chipper.

"Did you find out his name?" I asked quietly, not bothering to look at her. She blushed deeply.

"Cai." She said in a small voice. I scratched my neck and smirked idly at Guinevere. This cramped space was driving us mad.

* * *

The weeks were painfully slow. Another month came and went, and Guinevere's stomach grew even more. I guessed that the child would come before another moon's passing. Andrivete's romance with the Saxon guard was blossoming in the strange circumstances. Cai could not afford to be seen speaking to her during the day, so he had begun taking the night shift as often as he could. She stayed awake nearly all night talking softly to him in the dark. Cai, who seemed to be sympathetic to our plight, slipped us loaves of bread whenever he could, but he went no farther than that. He was a Saxon, and I knew better than to beg for a blade.

I was pushing my torso upwards from the ground using my feet and hands, and exercise I had taken to keep my body ready for battle, when the door flung open. It was Meleagan, and there was a look on his face that I did not trust.

* * *

Ok a battle is coming! Time to get excited! The end is near! Review 


	37. A Saxon's Last Strike

RedSkyAtNight- Thanks for the tips…I really did space off during the grammar portion of English. It was all so boring…

Blue Eyes At Night - Yeah…She's feelin pretty pissy over the whole bath thing.

SnoDragon- Yeah Arthur and Modron got it on… Crazy I know… And I freaking love Mordred! You'll should like my next story if you are a Mordred legend fan. Ahhh I love him!

Disappointed fan- Yeah well this eleven pages on Word as compared to my normal 6-8. Hope you enjoy it!

Medea Smyke- Thank you! His or her review didn't exactly bother me, but it is nice to know that you really think the story is getting better. Yeah grammar isn't my strong point!

Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Meleagan's straw like hair contrasted frightfully with his ruddy complexion at that moment. He looked as if he would love nothing more than to crush a man's skull with his bare hands.

"Your gods cursed husband refuses to pay for your safe return." He said irately. His close cropped beard trembled with rage. No ransom? That meant… "He has raised an army in a matter of weeks!"

Ha. Ha bloody ha. Oh Arthur. I was going to kiss that wonderful man if I ever saw him again. Yseult's eyes were squinting as she adjusted to the light that was pouring in through the opened door. My skin seemed ready to slide off my bones, if only to be kissed by the sunlight for a few moments. Guinevere stood up swiftly and confidently, while I stood up slowly, never taking my eyes off the angry Saxon.

"What will you do?" Guinevere asked keeping her voice guarded and her eyes cold. I stood a pace or two behind her as Ealasaid stood up also. Meleagan was now faced with five able bodied women who had no love for him. He gave a humorless laugh.

"What would you do woad? I made an offer. A generous offer. The Roman has turned it down. Whatever fate the gods have planned for us when your husband brings his army here, your time is up. His defiance will cost him your lives." Meleagan said giving us a smile that was more like a animal's grimace. I had no doubt that Meleagan would go through with the threat. It was a death sentence. I don't think she even realized that she did it, but Guinevere's arms went around her stomach. It now seemed that her baby might never even take its first breath. No. No I would not let that happen. My thoughts raced desperately.

"Will you give our bodies back to our people for a burial?" I asked, willing Meleagan be manipulated. I sent a prayer that lasted no longer than a second to every god that abided on this earth. "You're going to force our men to watch us die; give us the honor of a burial."

My breath was shallow. Please gods. Work. Meleagan started to say something and then paused. His abomination of a smile widened. It had not occurred to him before to make a spectacle of our deaths.

"I will have your bodies sent north." He said thinking himself generous. Andrivete was shaking.

"When will he be here?" Guinevere asked in a quieter voice.

"My scouts tell me he'll be here before the week's end." Meleagan said and this seemed to dampen his mood. The word scout sent another shock of hope through me. His shoulders stiffened. "Enjoy your last few days."

And with that he left us there in our shabby prison. Yseult turned to me not with anger, but with disbelief.

"Now he's going to kill us in front of them all." She said looking as if she would rather die a thousand deaths than to be shamed like Meleagan had promised. She knew that he had not thought of this last strike at Arthur on his own.

"Every moment of life in between now and that day is promised to us." I said quietly. "And every one of those moments is going to help us escape."

Yseult looked doubtful as she turned away, but I didn't care. I had work to do. I lean against the wall of our pathetic thatched hut and tried to think of a way to escape. I doubted there was any way of escaping before Arthur arrived. We wouldn't stand a chance. I tried to picture the settings around the hut. The ground we stood on was an arms length below the ground level outside. We were positioned near the stone wall…Gods help me…

* * *

My salvation came two days later in the form of the guard who kept watch over us during the day. Another man, a fat, gruff looking fellow, stopped by to offer some entertainment to our daytime jailer. The originally innocent game of tossing a few crude, foreign looking dice on the ground had turned into a brawl over an accusation of cheating. Wanting to see what was going on, and of course the sheer desperation for amusement, sent us scrambling to the wall. Faces were pressed against knobby holes and splintering gaps in the wood. I watched as the fat man flattened our jailer under his ample body and then proceeded to smother the unfortunate man's face into the frosted mud. Just as it seemed our jailer was completely lost to the humiliating defeat, he threw the man bodily off him. Ealasaid yelped and flung herself backwards as the man was hurled against the hut wall. I heard the dull clink of metal hitting wood. I crawled over to the door and pitched my cheek against the dirt. I peered under the door at the knife that had tumbled down the primitive ramp that gave access to our submerged pen. A few men had gathered around to watch the fray. I hoped no one saw my hand crawl out from under the door. My finger tips could just brush the edge of the blade, but my forearm was caught under the door. I pressed my arm into the dirt and shoved my hand forward. I held back a hiss of pain as a layer of skin was shaved off by the wood. My finger tips closed around the blade tip and grasped it. I pulled my arm back and ignored the sting of the blade slicing into my thumb. I stared at the blade for a moment. The rusty, simple blade laid on my palm, barely any longer than my hand. Strangely enough, it seemed to me that the knife was the most beautiful thing I had ever set my eyes on. I admired it for a few moments until Guinevere broke my reverie.

"Hide it before the man notices its gone!" She said urgently. Andrivete began frantically digging a small hole. After a few moments she held her hand out impatiently. I tossed her the knife which she immediately plunged into the shallow grave. Yseult and she began shoving fistfuls of dirt back over the hole and patting it frenziedly. We sat back after it was done and took deep breaths. We had a blade. It was strange to be so happy and hopeful over such a small thing. Since I could hold a blade without impaling myself, I had never been far from a knife or sword. It reminded me how far we had fallen. Faces flashed across my eyelids in a stream of gold. Galahad, Gawain, Bors, Mordred, Arthur, Tristan, Dag, Lancelot, Modron, March. It made me remember what I was fighting for. Once again plans began forming in mind. This time, I was confident that we would escape.

* * *

Three more days and nights passed before Arthur and his army arrived. In the early morning of the fourth day, I was awakened by the sounds of panic. I jerked a filthy hand across my groggy eyes and crawled to the door. I gently pushed Andrivete, who had fallen asleep against the door, out of my way and peered out. Cai was standing outside scratching his flop of wheat colored hair. Women, children and the old were being hustled into the molded stone fortress. The sounds of animals, infants, and shouting men filled the air. The Saxons, a rather hairy race, were adorned in thick leather jerkins and chain mail. Bundles of arrows and spears were being carted out the gate. It was evident that Meleagan would defend the lower part of the town for as long as he could. If Arthur breached the wooden fence, the Saxons would retreat to the larger stone wall. There they would be trapped, but safe for a while. Arthur would lay siege of course, and eventually get through…Unless of course Meleagan was expecting help? I wondered if the Saxon had sent word to his kin that the high king of Britain was going to be camped at his doorstep with only the soldiers he had managed to recruit in a few weeks. An imposing figure was striding towards our meager housing. It was Meleagan outfitted in all his armor. I lunged over to Guinevere and began shaking her awake. She had barely time to give me a startled look and raise herself up before the door was thrown open. Meleagan stood there like some awful god of old times. His face was void of any of his normal vicious amusement.

"He's here. With an entire army." He spit out at us. The others had awakened and were staring at him in an alarmed fashion. He sounded worried, which meant that Arthur's army could pose a threat. I estimated that Arthur had gathered at least six hundred men. Meleagan raised a hand and backhanded the queen. She fell to the ground with a cry. I was up in front of her in a moment, as the others tried to pull Guinevere to them to shield her. I kept my face blank I stood, fortress like in front of the armored king. I knew that I must not have looked very worthy of fear. I was a young woman who had been stuck in a dirty pit nearly all winter. I had not bathed or even had a decent meal the entire time. My hair was like earthy slime plastered to my head and my skin was a sickly, pasty color, smeared with dirt like some pathetic war paint. I stood there; not attacking, only defending. I longed to dig up the knife and shove into the man's gut, but I forced myself to remain still. I would use the blade until it was safe to do so. His mouth was a thin sneer as he swung a beastly fist at me. I dodged it and stepped back. This time he took a step forward as he punched and there was no escaping it. A huge, alabaster fist connected with my left eye. I barely managed to stand.

"You bother me the most." he said stiffly. "More than the stupid one or the pale one. More than the healer or that snug bitch of a queen. You and that blank face."

This time my skull felt as though it was cracked, and I could not remain standing. I fell to the dirt in a heap. Meleagan stepped over me and sent a sharp kick to Guinevere's huge belly. Her mouth opened in a scream that was silent except for a hoarse sound. Yseult launched herself at the Saxon. He hit her aside like she was a leaf. The auburn haired girl slammed into the wall and was still.

"Soon." He said in a promise and exited the hut. Cai cast one pained look into the hut before shutting the door. I took in the look of agonized remorse as I clutched at my skull. Minutes passed before the ache in my head quieted to a dim roar. I stood up unsteadily. There was a faint pounding. I was not sure if it was just the ringing in my head or the sound of war drums. I felt as though I might be sick for a moment. Andrivete checked Yseult's pulse and then began to shake her awake. Guinevere was gritting her teeth as she held her stomach. Her thin arms were wrapped snugly around the bottom portion of her belly as if to keep the contents from falling out. Ealasaid gave me a look and I nodded. March's sister was paler than I had ever seen her as she tried to press cold palms to Guinevere's cheeks. The heir to the throne was in danger in its mother's stomach. It needed to be born. I could here the sounds of battle in the distance. I dug up the blade immediately and looked around. The roof was too high for us to reach, even while stepping on someone's back. I turned my eyes to the wall. The lower portion of the walls was just tightly packed earth. It turned into wood around the height of my hip. I looked in the direction I knew the stone wall to be in. I began digging furiously at the dirt. Andrivete began to help me and soon there was a sizable hole going upwards towards the light.

"Stay here." I said swiftly as I pushed myself through the hole. I came out on the other side breathed deeply. Freedom. I looked around. There was only an arms length or so in between myself and the wall. I grabbed a dirt clod and tossed it over the roof of the hut. That would alarm Cai. I waited another moment to hear the direction he was coming in. He walked around the left side, so I ducked behind the other side. I waited he had ducked down to the hole in shock. I was at his side in a moment, holding the knife to his throat as pulled his fair hair back. I heard Andrivete whimper from inside.

"You make a sound and I will kill you." I said plainly. "If you try to alarm the others, I will end your life. I have no qualms about slitting your throat."

He made a tiny sound to show he understood.

"Cai, do you want to see her hung from the walls?" I asked and there was no need to say who "she" was. He shook his head slightly. "We can lock you into the pit, and you can say we overwhelmed you."

"They will kill me anyways." He said shaking his head.

"Then you can help us, and come with us." I said quietly. "Arthur is a good man, and he will not punish you for being what you are."

Cai was still for a long time. I was asking him to betray his people and to run away with his enemy. After a moment he gave the slightest of nods. Andrivete scrambled out of the hole as I took the blade away from Cai's neck. She flung herself upon him and I could see him relishing the first time he was able to wrap his arms around the girl. I left them to hold each other as I snuck around front. No one was paying attention as I ducked by the door and opened it hastily. Ealasaid and Yseult supported Guinevere as they hustled outside. We stole around to the hidden side of the prison hut and looked at each other. For several moments, Cai was subjected to many suspicious looks.

"Swear you will not betray us." I said solemnly. The dagger was still in my hand, and I was fully prepared to use it at his first sign of hesitation. He looked at Andrivete.

"I swear." Cai said loudly. Guinevere nodded and looked around as she continued to hold her stomach. Her breathing reminded me of a wounded animal.

"Do you have a plan?" Yseult asked me as we huddled behind the hut.

"I know of the two main gates. Are there any others?" I asked Cai.

"There is a smaller gate to the south. It will be guarded though." He said looking nervous. I looked towards the main fortress. It would be of no use to us. There were several smaller buildings surrounding it however.

"What is in that building?" I asked pointing to a stone building.

"Weapons." He said. I nodded.

"Follow me." I said as I began to travel towards the building using the shadow of the wall. We ducked under a lean to behind the building. Yseult and I sprinted to the front of the building and slipped through the door. The light was poor and dusty. I heard a man scream somewhere in the city below. Yseult began grabbing bundles of arrows and a few bows. My lip curled at the sight of the bows. I wanted my own damn bow. These bows were pathetic, but I was loathe to use a crossbow. Most of the Saxons had their own weapons, so the room was used mainly to store spears and arrows. There were however a few piles of spare swords and such. I tossed aside a few rusty blades before I found a small sword. I hefted the blade up and examined it. It edges were chipped but fairly sharp. I would have to do. I picked up another dagger and tucked it away. I handed Yseult a sword and grabbed another one for Ealasaid or Andrivete. I froze as I hear voices. Yseult and I hid behind a rack of spears and held our breath. Two men hustled in and began throwing bundles of spears over their shoulders. I stepped out quietly and crept up behind one of the men. I put a hand over his mouth and shoved the blade between his ribs. Before the other man could make a sound, Yseult had opened up his throat. We grabbed a few more weapons and then left.

"Here." I said tossing Andrivete a sword. I looked at Cai for a moment. I did not think it would be fair or wise to put him in the position of fighting his own people.

"Can you get her outside these walls?" I said nodding the direction of the queen.

"There is a door we can use to get out of the inner wall. But the wooden wall is guarded…" He said slowly as he pointed to the wall some ways off. . The panic was making his mouth rebel against the use of our language.

"You keep her safe." I ordered. I didn't care much what the others did. "I'm going to help Arthur."

And with that I began running to the door. I threw aside the heavy wooden latch and darted out. I was free. I ran down the worn pathway that served as a road to the bottom of the hill. Some areas of the hill were just small stone huts with crude animal pens while other places were made up of large buildings set more closely together. All of it was abandoned however. I made my way towards the southern gate and stopped behind a clump of huts. A small forced of perhaps sixty men were holding the gate. They were at the ready to fire arrows at the larger force several hundred yards out side the fence. I looked towards them and scoured their ranks for the faces of someone I held dear. There were several figures on horseback, but I could not see any of them clearly. From the look of things, it would take hours for them to take the southern gate. That wouldn't do. I ducked into a hut and looked around. The woman who lived there had put out her hearth fire before she fled to the inner gates. I knelt at the hearth and began striking a piece of flint. Soon I had a small fire going in the circular hearth. I smiled grimly as I stared at the flames. I went to the bed pressed against the wall and began grabbing blankets. I ripped the fabrics up and laid them down. I pilled kindling on them all and tied them up. I held the eight small bundles in my arm and lit the ragged tops on fire. I walked calmly outside and tossed them on various roofs. Within moments the entire area was ablaze. The men down at the wall began shouting. They began scrambling to get to their homes. I ducked behind the buildings and made my way down to the gate. A handful of the Saxons had resisted the urge to run to the fires, and they still guarded the gate. Their leader, a brawny man with reddish hair, was screaming like a rabid beast at his men who were trying to put out the fires. I looked at the gate and at the seven men who still guarded it. I had to act quickly…The rather humble gate was held shut by a wooden latch the length of my entire frame. It would take all my strength to push it up and out of the hooks that held it…

It wouldn't be long before the Saxons returned to the gate. I drew the Saxon sword and ran out towards the first man. His eyes widened in shock as he fell to the ground with a hole in his abdomen. The second man fell easily also with a slash across the side of his neck. By the time I reached the third man, he had drawn his sword clumsily. He was unprepared for an attack however, and I knocked his sword away after a few moments. The leader and the three men left with him turned to me with ready swords. The ruddy faced captain barked an order to one of the men who immediately dropped to one knee and grabbed his crossbow. I threw myself to the ground and heard an ominous whizzing sound where my torso had been only moments before. Before he could load again, I hopped up to my knees and swept my blade like a farmer with a scythe. He fell backwards sending a bright ribbon of blood into the air. The crimson color seemed too gaudy and vivid against the smoky air. The leader began yelling to the men who were further up on the hill. I launched myself at him and distracted him for a moment. He swung at my head and I ducked just in time to see the man behind me take a stab at my back. I twisted to the side and imbedded the small knife into a young man's chest. He fell with a gasp and landed at the feet of the leader. I parried several more blows before swiping at the man's stomach. Blood souped around my feet in a gory puddle. Two left. The men at the top of the hill still had not noticed the small battle down here at the gate. I dispatched the last two men and looked to the gate. I stabbed my pitiful sword into the ground and began trying to loosen the wooden latch. After several futile attempts, I swung my shoulder into. Pain crackled into life around my bones, but the latch had shifted. I swung twice more until I could move it with my arm. I threw the gate open and rubbed my arm.

The host of woads and Britons stared at me for a moment as if not understanding. Even the men on horseback just shuffled back and forth. Finally I waved at them to charge forward, and they obeyed. _Now _the Saxons farther up the hill noticed what was going on. I found myself directly between the rush of the oncoming forces. Wonderful. I realized that the Saxons were going to reach the gate first. I grabbed the wooden latch and ran outside the gates with it. I nearly laughed at the thought of their faces when they realized they couldn't lock the gate. I dropped the latch some ways out and looked at the cavalry riding towards me. I recognized the faces of Lancelot, Gawain and _Galahad_. Galahad held out an arm as he rode towards me, and I swung up on the horse using his forearm. I laughed as we rode towards the gates. The Saxons almost had it closed when we neared it, but their mouths dropped as they saw the forced heading towards them at breakneck speed. They fled from the gate to avoid being trampled as we swept through the gate. We were in. The Britons on foot immediately took care of the thirty or so Saxons. Galahad twisted in his saddled to look at me.

"Galahad!" I cried out. Perhaps it was the fact that I had not seen him in over eight months, or maybe it was that his was the first face I had seen in months to offer comfort. Either way, I felt as if I had never loved him more in all the years I had known him. He smiled and pulled me off the horse with him to the ground. I threw my arms around him, nearly forgetting we were in a battle, and kissed him. It was a _wonderful_ kiss. No man had ever kissed me that way. It wasn't chaste in any way, and I loved it.

"Ahem." I heard Lancelot say. We looked up at the two knights who were giving us odd looks.

"Galahad, what have I told you about being greedy?" Gawain said in his lofty voice. I laughed and winced as my shoulder complained. I kissed Galahad hard on the lips once more and squeezed him.

"I missed you." He said burrowing his face into my hair. He pulled away with a disgusted expression.

"What? It's not my fault I couldn't bathe." I said narrowing my eyes.

"You look ravishing." Gawain said mockingly. Lancelot looked angry.

"They've kept you in this state for all this time?" He asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Don't worry. We'll survive." I said and suddenly I thought of Guinevere. "Lancelot, Guinevere is going to have the baby."

Their faces paled.

"Where is she?" Lancelot asked with a grim expression. I decided that I didn't want to be a Saxon in his way at that moment.

"I don't know. They are being led by a Saxon to safety." I said and hurried to explain when their faces turned to horror. "He's helping us."

They looked doubtful, but I assumed they wouldn't impale him on sight.

"Arthur is at the northern gate?" I asked.

"Yes. We should make our way there." Galahad said as he held me close for another moment. He seemed changed almost…He looked a bit older. I touched his face and pushed him towards his horse.

"You two take half the men and go help Arthur." I said taking charge. I had been trapped in this damned place all winter. I deserved a little authority. "Lancelot and I will take the rest and go find Guinevere."

Surprisingly, they nodded and Galahad began rounding up the warriors.

"You know, I love it when you're domineering." Gawain said suggestively.

"I'm telling Ragnelle." I said flatly.

"Good to see the Saxons haven't ruined your sense of humor." Lancelot said pulling me up on the horse with him. We began riding up the hill with the others behind us. The thrill of it all was overwhelming. We rode around several of the pathways until we ended up at the door in the stone wall.

"They must be still inside." I said trying to push down my alarm. A woman embellished with fierce woad designs opened the heavy door we rode in.

"Guinevere!" Lancelot called out and I could tell he was trying to hold in his panic.

"Here!" I heard Andrivete's voice call out. I saw her fair head poking out of a window in a round building. We made our way to here just as we saw the entire Saxon army pour in the gates. Arthur must have broken into the lower gate. I put a restraining hand on Lancelot.

"Don't. We'll give their position away." I said urgently. He nodded and we changed our course for the Saxons. The men and women behind us roared with a war cry. I saw Meleagan turn to look at us with surprise. There was no way now that they could lock the gates. He snarled and began running towards us. I grabbed a hold of Lancelot's bow and hopped off the horse. I began firing at the Saxons who had neared the queen's hiding place which looked to be a granary. I took down eight before I was forced to use the sword that hung at my waist. I looked up to see Meleagan heading towards the granary. He knew. Lancelot saw this also and began riding towards him. I turned away to face the huge man who stood before me with an axe that was almost as large as I was. I skidded away from the huge axe as it slammed into the place where I had been. The weeks in the cold hut had not done wonders for my health, and I felt myself tiring. I knew I need to do as much fighting as I could before I was too weak. I ducked and slashed at his stomach. I was not quick enough to dodge the surge of blood that sprayed out of the dying man's torso. I closed my eyes and mouth as tightly as I could and toppled backwards. I looked down at myself as I stood up and grimaced. I was drenched in blood from the top of my head to my waist. Tristan was going to be speechless at the sign of my beauty. Eh. I looked upwards as I heard the scream of the man running towards me. I wanted a challenge, not a mad man. Sidestepping his clumsy sword stroke, I lodged the sword firmly in his a stomach. I wrenched it out and stepped over his body to the next man. I looked towards the gate and saw the Saxons with their backs pressed to each other. They were now fighting Arthur's army outside of the gate, and inside the walls. I felt no pity for them.

Face still somber, I turned sharply towards the sound of a woman shrieking. Andrivete was screaming furiously at a man who had snuck up behind Lancelot and shoved a blade in between the shoulder joints of his armor. Meleagan took the opportunity to kick the knight into the stone wall. I ran towards them and stepped in front of the Saxon king. His expression was one of mixed fear and desperation. Getting to the queen was his only chance for victory, or at least survival. Saxons grouped around us, preventing any more help from reaching us. I saw a man try to crawl through the granary window, but he fell to the ground a moment later with a spear sticking out of his side. Good. At least they could protect themselves for a while. I prayed that Arthur would get through soon. A very, very ugly man launched himself at me with a cry. I parried his blow while making sure I didn't back up into the waiting swords of the Saxons behind me. The ground was icy and slippery. I dug my heels in and drove the man to the ground. Before he could get up, I crouched beside him and slit his throat. I was up in and instant, waiting for the next attack. Just then, a small band of a woads rushed into the fray. I took the moment to lunge at Meleagan. He parried my blow with ease struck at my head. I pulled my sword up to meet his at the last moment and shoved his blade away from me. I drew the dagger and slashed at his arm. He flinched as it cut through his leather jerkin and shoved me backwards with his sword.

Lancelot was back up in a moment, and he slashed at the Saxon king's legs as I fell back. A cross bolt slammed into his own leg and he fell to his knee. I parried the blow that would have decapitated my friend. I stepped back and watched Meleagan as he prepared to attack me. He was a hale man in his prime, and he would most certainly have more energy than me in my present condition. I need to finish him off now. I feinted to the left and then swung in an arc towards him. I caught him off guard and rendered his right arm useless. He snarled and swung his huge broadsword at my shoulder. I spun away and it skimmed my back lightly. I was panting. I gathered all my strength as Meleagan glared at me. I swung at him and he parried it. I did it again and again trying my best to wear him out, to make him stumble. Finally his foot slipped and he fell to one knee. That was all it took. He brought his sword up as I swung my own. His head flew off his shoulders and his body toppled backwards. His sword took a moment longer to fall because it was stuck in something. My stomach. I looked down in surprise at the hole in my lower abdomen. It wasn't a slash or a cut. His sword had gone deep into the left side of my stomach near my hip bone. My breathing became deep and ragged. I touched the wound and my hand came away a deep red. It was the dark, nearly black blood that came from deep within the body. I stared at it dazedly for a few moments. Lancelot appeared at my side and his face was strange as he looked at my blood soaked stomach. I felt the hot liquid trickle down my pants. I was vaguely aware that Lancelot must have loved me a lot to have rushed to my side instead of Guinevere's. Loved me a lot…

I shook my head suddenly and stared at Meleagan's head. His face was frozen into a hateful expression. I picked it up by the flaxen hair and staggered over to the stairs that led up to the top of the wall. I leaned heavily against the wall as I lurched up the stairs painfully. My left foot was soaked with the blood that had drained down my leg. I felt lightheaded, and I knew I wasn't far from passing out. I reached the top of the wall and stared down at the battle beneath me. Arthur's main force was locked in combat with the Saxons at the gate. It was obvious that the true invaders, the Saxons, were out numbered. I swung my arm and threw the king's head over the wall. It seemed to pause in the air for a moment before plummeting into the center of the crowd. The Saxons who saw it began to be still. Soon most of the fighting had stopped. One of the men held up the head of their defeated leader, and they looked up at me. They had lost, and they knew it. One by one they dropped their weapons and were forced to their knees by the Britons. I caught sight of Arthur before I decided it was time to sit down. I was going to faint very soon, and I figured it was better to do so while already on the ground. It would save me a bit of humiliation, and keep me from toppling backwards over the wall. It was perfect timing…As soon as my back rested against the wall, my entire world went black.

* * *

"Don't let her bite through her tongue!" I heard a man yell out. Pain. Lots of pain. I was in a room on a bed covered in furs. Voices. I heard a shriek in the distance. It was Guinevere.

"Guinevere." I managed to croak the name as my eyes adjusted to the dim firelight. A rough hand stroked my forehead.

"She's having the baby." A voice said soothingly. I grimaced. I wanted to be there for her…I looked to where the voice had come from. Dagonet was a standing at my feet. I tried to smile at him but another explosion went off near my hip and I was forced to use all my energy from crying out.

"She's loosing blood. I can't stop it." A man I had never seen before said. He was hunched over my stomach, trying to staunch the flow long enough to look around. The hand that stroked my face paused for a moment and I looked towards the man. Tristan. I decided that if I was to die right then, it would be fine. I would be with the people I loved. "She needs proper care. I'm not skilled enough for this wound."

"Will she survive?" Galahad asked. His voice was strained. I gritted my teeth as a new pain caught fire. Gods above it hurt.

"There's a piece of the blade stuck under the skin. I need to get it out and then stop the blood. Then she needs another healer. If this can be done, she will survive. But even then she may not be able to bear a child. The sword was very close to her womb." The healer said as he wiped away more blood. I let out a cry without meaning to. I wanted to scream. I no longer even felt the physical pain. It was the words of the healer that seemed to steal the breath from my lungs. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair…

"We can't wait for the herbs, I need to get the metal out." The healer said pinching the bridge of his nose. He grabbed a knife and began patting the blood off my skin. Tristan turned my face until I was looking at him. I felt the edge of the blade touch my skin and I clamped my jaws shut. I saw Gawain hold out his hands as if he wanted to help, but then he turned away and looked at the wall. I took in a breath sharply and then let it out in a hiss. I locked eyes with Tristan. The pain was overwhelming… He put his face close to mine until our noses touched. I felt my eyes water as the healer put more pressure on the blade. I put a hand on Tristan's shoulder and squeezed. Looking around the room was strange…The flames seemed to be dancing all around the room… My friends were no longer men, they were strange warbling shadows…I felt my hand go limp on Tristan's shoulder. It was too hard and too painful to remain conscious, so I let go.

* * *

Whew...Maybe it seems short to yall, but it took me forever to write. I really really hope yall like. Review if you don't mind. Commend my effort atleast. Anyways yall got what you asked for. A little battle, a little Tristan, a little Arthur coming to the rescue, a little cliffhanger...By the way, don't hate me for that cliffhanger thing. The resolution of the story is nearer than you think. 


	38. Aballava

Furibondo- I'll try! Hope you enjoy this chapter. More to come.

SnoDragon- Hm…Galahad-Isolde-Tristan triangle… Interesting, but Isolde's made up her mind.

Shevaun-Don't die on me here! Breathe!

Blue Eyes At Night- Mmmm. Tristan…. All silent and hot.

Dellis- Thank you! I had it pictured so perfectly in my mind and I really wanted to convey it that way!

Kafan- Yay! I've made someone cry in a good way!

Shpadana Zizais- SWEET! You liked this chapter!

Plzthx101- Flawless? Awesome!

* * *

I wasn't truly awake for days. The moment I had drifted back into the world of the conscious, I had been given a foul tasting broth and sleep took hold of me again. Years could have passed for all I knew. I became aware that was in a wagon. My hands were cold yet my body felt as if I was on fire. Fever. Sane thoughts and the thoughts brought on by fever mixed together and floated through my mind like autumn leaves. One day I was fully aware enough to look around without moving. Snow…Still not touched by the beginnings of spring. We were heading north. I was aware enough to recognize that my knights were not with me. I tried calling out, but no words would come. I prayed that someone would be merciful and lay me down in the snow. I felt like my own skin was burning me alive. Mordred was suddenly at my side pressing a cold palm against my cheek. Once again I found myself lost in the dead, silver place that my unconscious mind seemed drawn to.

* * *

My first instinct was to open my eyes and sit up. I held back the impulse and waited until my breathing steadied. I was in a foreign bed. In a foreign place. I quietly sniffed the air. I smelled herbs and blood. And that dry hot smell that came from a fire that tried vainly to help you forget that it was cold outside. I was underneath far too many blankets for my liking. It all came back to me then. I tried rationally to think of what all I remembered. I remembered wispy fragments of the journey to wherever I was, and I remembered the battle. And…And what the healer said about me. I sat up gingerly and flipped the blankets in half so that they laid on my calves and feet. I was in a shift of plain linen. I pulled the hem of it up to my chest and looked at the light bandage that covered my lower abdomen. I peeled it away and touched a finger to the wound that marred my stomach. It was no longer than my finger, but it was puckered as if the blade had sunk in deeply. I suppose it was a good sign that bandage had only a few drops of blood on it. The stitches in the skin looked good and sturdy.

The room that housed me was old and friendly smelling. There was something in the air that was familiar…Something I had not smelled for some time… I gently set my feet the surprisingly warm floor and stood up. My legs gave out at once. After all, I had not used them for…I didn't know how long. I would need to find out. I stretched my protesting legs out for a few minutes before trying again. This time I did not falter. I walked softly to a window and pushed the shutters open. A blast of cold air hit me, but then it faded to a cool, tickling breeze. I looked outside at the sprawling community at the edge of the forest. I saw huts and stone buildings everywhere. I had no idea where I was, but I knew I was near Hadrian's wall. It was that smell…I was near the wall that had given me some of the best years of my life.

I smiled as a pair of small arms wrapped around my hips. I walked back over to my bed and sat down. Mordred sat next to me and leaned on me gently.

"I thought you were going to die." He said promptly. His voice was quiet and guarded as always. "But then I knew you wouldn't. You would die in battle. Not in a wagon."

I said nothing for a moment. I leaned over and kissed his dark mop of hair and held him to me. It was alright if I never bore a child. I had Mordred, and he was almost my own. The boy wound a hand in my tunic and straightened up. I loved his odd little habit.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"Aballava." He said. The only Aballava I knew was a Roman fort at the western end of Hadrian's wall. This was _not_ a Roman fort.

"Not the fort." I stated in a half question. He shook his head.

"No, the real Aballava." He said seriously. "The old Aballava. North of the wall. It was here long before the Roman's came."

"Ah. And what is this Aballava? Who lives here? Woads?" I asked interestedly.

"Anyone who wishes to. This is a sacred place." Mordred said relaxing as I combed my fingers through his hair. I opened my mouth to ask another question but he cut me off.

"It took over a fortnight to get here with the wagon. You've slept here for almost a week."

"Oh." I said. Strange, thinking that I had been asleep for three weeks.

"You're up." I heard a voice say. I looked up to see a young woman, barely more than a girl standing in the doorway. She set a large bowl of soup and a half a loaf of bread on the bed beside me.

"Don't eat it too fast, but try to get it all down today. We haven't been able to feed you much since you arrived." She explained. Her voice was balmy and her eyes were the color of a cloudy sky. I nodded slightly and kept my eyes on her. I doubted she was more than fifteen.

"Thank you." I said.

"You may call me Nimue." She said drifting around my room. I realized that other than the shift, I had nothing to wear. Her dark hair was kept in thick pieces with small bronze clasps placed in random lengths.

"Isolde." I said in return. I was so hungry. I couldn't wait for her to leave, so I began spooning large amounts of soup into my mouth. I wanted to wolf it down all at once, but I also wanted to keep it down once I had eaten it. Instead I made myself eat slowly.

"Uriens and mother brought you here." Mordred said looking up at me with his stormy green-blue eyes. I raised an eyebrow at that. He saw this and opened his mouth to explain.

"Mother and Uriens married while you were gone. Uriens wanted to marry her before he sent men to help Arthur." He said guardedly. Uriens was kind to Mordred, so he had no reason to hate him, but I wondered if it bothered him somehow. The boy was smart. Almost too smart for a six year old. It seemed a very probable that he had put together the pieces of his birth. Perhaps he knew that Arthur was his father…

I shook myself and petted his head.

"Uriens' home is only a couple days northwest." Mordred said yawning. "Mother let me stay here with you."

I leaned down and hugged the boy.

"I'm going hunting." Nimue said and excused herself.

"She's a priestess." Mordred said once she was gone.

"Of what god?" I asked as I finished the last of my bread. The Britons had many gods, but the did not build many temples to them oddly enough. Their Druids had their temples and schools, and their mother goddess had temples scattered across the isle, but other shrines and holy places were usually reserved for local deities.

"Aballava is holy. There are many gods worshipped here." Mordred said as if reading my mind. "Nimue serves them all."

"She can hunt?" I asked curiously. I thought she would have been limited to sacrifices. Mordred nodded. I yawned and laid back on my bed, pulling Mordred down beside me.

"Do you ever wish you knew the future?" I asked the fey like boy moments later. He tilted his head in thought.

"No." He said.

"Me neither." I said sighing.

"Yes you do."

"Oh really?" I asked shuffling his shoulders playfully. He nodded his head somberly.

"You want to know about Tristan." He said assuredly. True. Oh so true… "He'll come for you."

In the back of my mind, I knew he would. Eventually, Tristan would come for me if he loved me. Even if he didn't love me, he would probably come for me. All I had to do was wait.

* * *

Aballava was heaven on earth for the gentle soul. It was the perfect place for the scholar or student. There was something in the air…I think it was the way the sky was so silent and enveloping. Like you could leave everything sordid or painful behind and start over. Mordred, who had apparently spent most of his winters at Aballava, gave me the tour of the place for the first week. Most of the families lived in cozy stone huts, molded over with age. Animals roamed freely over the area. Cows, ponies, goats, chickens… It was the most glorious chaos I had ever seen. There was an expansive stone circle at the bottom of a hill composed of small boulders. A large alter was in the middle, stained with age and blood. I was in an ancient place. Priests and priestesses roamed everywhere. Small, circular stone huts served as shrines while there were larger edifices to serve as outright temples.

"That is the temple to the goddess." Mordred said pointing to a sort of temple compound. It was by far the largest of the temples. It was composed of a large building with several smaller outcroppings. It was worn and grayed with age.

"Goddess?" I asked rubbing my stomach. It was sore beyond belief. Instead of sighing at having to explain such knowledge to a foreigner, the boy simply grabbed a piece of my tunic and explained.

"There are different goddess, but most of them are all the same goddess." He said sitting down at the edge of a small lake. More of a pond really…Magnificent though. "Epona is a goddess of horses, but she is still the goddess. The Morrigan is part of the goddess. Andraste. Rhiannon. Arianrhod. Branwen. They are…aspects. The maidens live in the temple."

I took it all in slowly. I would never be pious enough to serve a god my whole life. I suppose if I had a patron god, it was Kolaksay.

"Why the maidens?" I asked looking as several young girls ran outside with gay laughter.

"Mother says they must be pure to serve as maidens." He said stiffly. I nearly laughed at his childish avoidance of the subject.

"Virgins." I said simply. That made me think of Tristan. Damn it all.

"They cannot have shed blood either." He said. I had killed my first man before I even reached womanhood. I would not have made a very good maiden.

"And what do they do? What purpose do they serve?" I asked. Seemed rather pointless to me.

"I don't know. I do not even know why the goddess would care. But mother says they are innocent and that's important." Mordred said. Any other boy would have thrown rocks into the lake. Mordred seemed to be staring at it with some sort of reverence. "This is a very holy place."

"What sort of holy place?" I asked interestedly.

"Very sacred. The Lady lives here." He said as if that should explain it all.

"And do you believe all this? Do you worship these gods?" I asked.

"Yes." He answered without hesitation. "What do you believe in?"

"I believe in the gods. I even believe in Arthur's God. But I don't think they are as dependent on us as we pretend they are."

"You believe in Kolaksay." He said and I knew he was hoping for a story of who Kolaksay was.

"Do you know who Kolaksay was?" I asked playing along. He shook his head in a no. "He was the son of Targitay, who was the descendent of a god. When it came time for the rule to be passed on to Targitay's sons, gold fell from the sky. There was a yoke, a sword and a chalice."

At this point the boy was not looking at me in typical boyish awe. He was nodding his head, waiting for significance of it all. Strange boy.

"When Kolaksay's older brothers tried to touch the gold, the treasures caught on fire. But when Kolaksay neared them, the remained cool to the touch. It was decided that Kolaksay would be the king."

I finished without a grand flair. Mordred eyes became sad, thoughtful.

"So, the father and the brothers accepted the son who was the most worthy?" He asked and I knew at that moment that Mordred knew who his father was. He must have known that a child from Guinevere, Arthur's recognized wife, would have a more supported claim to the throne than himself. I nodded, trying to gauge his reaction. I took the moment to study his face. There was something there that left me little doubt of his father's identity, but yet he did not look like Arthur. I suppose the similarity was in the eyes. Perhaps the nose. Everything else belonged to his mother. He was going to be handsome no doubt, but it would be a different sort of handsome.

"What if the other son was…" He trailed off and pursed his lips together. I sensed that he did not wish to speak of it anymore. Thoughts of the future weighed heavily on my mind.

* * *

Six more days came and went, and it was time for my stitches to be removed. I laid on the stone bench feeling the granular surface dig into my back. A woman who looked to be nearing sixty was digging out the stitches while Nimue watched on. Part of her training no doubt. I was in the sort of infirmary. It was a small wing off the side of the home of the druids. Everything smelled of herbs. Life and death. A fierce, aching pain swept through me. I had to know.

"Will I be able to bear children?" I asked. I forced the words to come out clearly and unaffectedly. The building was warm and muggy. Sky blue marking's winded up and down the woman's bare arms. She looked at me with earthy eyes, bright for one her age.

"I see no reason why not." She answered and went back to her work. My skin tingled.

"The healer in the south…" I said confusedly. "He said the blade was very close to my womb."

"And so it was." She said pulling what I prayed to be the last stitch out. "But you seem to be unaffected. Have you bled this month?"

I shook my head no.

"Probably from the infection. Nimue, give the girl some ragwort." She said plastering a thin layer of a yellow ointment on the fresh, violet scar. "It will bring on your courses."

Wonderful. Oh fantastic. Absolutely must remember to slip some in Yseult's drink every now and again. With that, the woman, I was unsure of whether to think of her as a goddess of good news or an evil old hag, handed me a oiled satchel of the paste. I nodded in thanks and arranged my clothing properly. Nimue was smiling pitiably. She gave me small, unwelcome bundle of plant stems bound together by a thick string.

"Soak it in water and drink it." She said wickedly. "All of it."

I muttered something foul and left. No matter how loathe I was to invite my courses upon myself, I wanted to be sure that her words had not been mistaken. After that, I would just have to leave it to faith.

* * *

Nimue decided to take me hunting the next morning. She gave me a cheery smile that I did not return.

"Good morning!" She said knowing it would aggravate me. "Sleep well?"

"No I did not thank you." I said forcing myself to be calm. I would not act like a child. A dull pain in my belly had kept me up for half the night. Damn the herbs. But I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders. My heart felt ready to explode. It looked as though I could still have a child.

We spent the entire day hunting the game that only recently stirred from winter's sleep. Nimue's large and fleecy hound bayed every time a rabbit was near. Between the ample meals, hunting, and frequent bathing, my health and appearance was much improved. The watery sun of early spring even managed to stain my skin to a healthy glow. Soon my figure was what it had always been. I wasn't sure how Nimue managed to stay so thin with all the wonderful, hearty food around. If she spent any time in Sarmatia, she would have treated bread with more love and devotion. And apples and fish. Mm… I was disappointed that I would not be in Aballava for the apple harvest in the fall. Of course there would be apples in the south, but Nimue had described the apples that grew nearby with such vibrancy that I had soon begun to long for the sweet, juicy fruit.

* * *

"Perhaps you should stay here and serve the gods. Or learn from the Druids…" Nimue suggested one night as we feasted on a thick stew of rabbit meat and vegetables. I spilled a few drops on the woad blue frock I was wearing. I had taken to wearing the loose, wispy frocks of the priestesses. Nimue had even outfitted me with several copper hair rings. I was a strange woman I realized. Briton. Woad. Roman. Sarmatian… I was more convinced that Tristan was the man for me. He was a wandered like myself. I probably would have been to much of a foreigner for any other man.

"I like battle too much. Plus I find it hard to stay in one place for longer than a few months. Not good qualities for a priestess." I said to the girl. I was in my early twenties and she only fifteen, but I liked her none the less. I could not stay were with her however.

"You could stay here part of the year as Andraste's servant. Then leave for battle on her behalf…" She said hopefully, but not intently. Her suggestions were lightly made. She knew I could not stay.

"I will return here when I can." I said assuredly. Perhaps if I lived long enough, I would spend my fading years in Aballava when my body was no longer fit for the battlefield. Maybe. In the mean time I was almost ready to return to my knights. I wanted to see Guinevere's baby. I had heard no news of anything. For all I knew, Arthur could be in Gaul fighting the Franks or the Goths.

"What will you do Isolde? What will you do when your scout comes for you?" Nimue asked and for once, I did not know how to answer a question asked of me.

* * *

"Here Isolde." Mordred said handing me a long bundle of straw. Another week had passed. It was spring and houses were being thatched. I had offered to help and had immediately been designated to thatching the house of a young couple and their infant. The husband helped Nimue and I while Mordred and the pregnant wife handed us the materials. Thatching was not a fun pastime. Something in the straw was making me sneeze, and I had almost fallen through the thin timber rafters and beams twice.

I swore loudly and the young mother covered the ears of her child while glaring at me.

"Atleast," Nimue panted, "the straw blends in with your dress."

I gave her a bored, caustic look and continued on with the thatching. I winced and pulled several pieces of straw out of my pale yellow frock. Nimue was right, though not in the complementary way she had meant. The gods be damned straw was blending in with my knee length frock. Even my legs were beginning to itch in the dark brown leggings, no doubt from bits of straw.

"There's a rider!" I heard someone call out from the wooden watch tower. I looked up and over the roofs and hills into the distance. Indeed there was rider coming from the south. A rider who must have passed through Hadrian's wall. A rider leading another horse behind it. I felt a strange contentedness fill my stomach like warm wine. I watched for a moment longer before climbing down the crude ladder. Tristan was here. I would have recognized him from a mile away. I took a moment to brush the remaining evidence of my work off myself and out of my hair. Tristan. Tristan and those stupid braids and his eyes and…Tristan. I felt anxiety begin to rise up in me and spread to my limbs like a disease. No. I pushed it down. Whatever happened, happened. Worrying would not affect anything. I took a deep breath and tried to make myself aware of everything around me. The dirt smelled wet from melted snow. It was cold outside, but the sunlight pierced the clouds suddenly and warmed me. I hear a flock of birds in the distance. I could hear the oncoming sound of hooves. I could hear my heartbeat.

I opened my eyes and began to walk to the edge of the village. I had brought nothing with me. I could leave right then if I wanted to. Tristan slowed down as he neared me and peered at me through ratty hair. He needed a bath. I stood there in all my unrefined glory and simply looked at him. A hawk's cry sounded in the distance. He was wearing the ring I had given to him.

"Stables." He said simply. A young man stepped forward and took the horses after Tristan had taken everything he needed off them. I took one of the saddle bags and hefted it over my shoulder.

"Your room." He said patiently. I nodded and led the way. I shut the door behind us and set the bag down while Tristan did the same. I wasn't sure how to handle his behavior. I had not expected, nor wanted some dramatic exclamation of love, but the way he was acting seemed to indicate that my feelings were unrequited. Oddly at a loss for words, I peeked inside one of the bags to busy myself. I wasn't even sure if he planned on staying in my room. I wasn't surprised to find a couple of my tunics and trousers in the bag. He had even brought my weapons. Dear sweet man. Before I could pull out my sword and kiss it fondly, Tristan pulled me away firmly and sat down on my bed. He continued with the pulling until was in his lap. I liked the way this was going… He didn't say a word. He kissed me. Soft, but urgent. His patience was gone. Mine was too. It had been a whole damn year since I had kissed him or laid in his arms, and I was bloody tired of waiting. Clothing began piling on the floor. The way he seemed to run his eyes over every bit of me as if checking to make sure I was still the same made me feel warm. I could tell he liked the tattoo that sprawled across my back. He traced it as he kissed me, and I pulled him roughly towards me and kissed him harder. He paused for a moment and looked at the scar by my hip bone. I actually smiled at this and kissed both the tattoos on his high cheek bones. He leaned his head against my neck for a moment and I actually heard him let out a relieved sigh. His breath tickled my neck, so I started to kiss him again. This time he paused to shift us so that he could lay me down. He pulled the copper hair rings out and tossed the on the floor. I was too happy to care. I didn't care what he had told Yseult. I didn't what anyone thought. All I cared about was the fact that Tristan loved me.

* * *

Happy? I hope so. I am… THIS IS NOT THE END! NOT NOT NOT! Wow…I really hope this lived up to yall's expectations. I'm a youngin' so I couldn't write anything more descriptive than this. I was blushing while writing this hahaha. Well I really, really hope you like it! Hope yall like Tristan's way of doing things. Review if you please. 


	39. Life

Enjoy! I want to thank you all for your reviews!The reviewshelped me out a lot! Yall helped me stay focused on the story! Thank you! I hope you all enjoyed this story as much as I did!

* * *

I didn't even think about leaving my room until noon the next day. I was very comfortable in Tristan's arms however, and starvation didn't sound too horrible. My head was on his chest, and I could feel my body rising and falling with his breathing. I was saved from having to get up when I heard a knock on the door. Too lazy to even bother pulling the thick blanket over our bodies, I smiled lightly. 

"Come in." I called out. Nimue's face turned red at the sight of Tristan and me and I guessed she had not seen her first Beltane rites. She set the two bowls she was carrying down on the floor near the bed and scurried out. I snickered and reached for the food. I was just out of my reach…Tristan suddenly rolled over on top of me and held out his slightly longer arm. He pulled the bowl piled with food onto the bed, leaving the bowl filled with cider on the floor. I resisted the urge to snatch it out of his hands and eat it all myself. Tristan sat up and leaned against the wall my bed was positioned against. I pulled my own self up using his arm. I propped myself up against his shoulder to have more access to the bowl of food in his lap. There was a thick, steaming porridge at the bottom of the bowl. The top of it was covered with a large cut of bread, a chunk of whitish cheese, and a few pieces of roasted boar. My mouth watered. I made a hungry sound, and Tristan kissed my forehead.

"Tristan." I said somberly. "I love you. But I'm going to eat most of the food."

He snorted as if he'd like to see me try. He grabbed the wooden spoon, leaving me with my bare hands. I shrugged and began to eat.

Several minutes later I was scraping the last of the porridge off the bottom of the bowl with the last bite of bread. I popped it into my mouth and closed my eyes with delight.

"Who's getting the cider?" I asked burrowing my head into him.

"Eh." He said poking his shoulder out so that I was shoved forward. I rolled forward and returned with the bowl of cider. I lifted the edge to my lips and drank deeply. Tristan took it from me and drained the rest. I sat there pressed against his chest and realized I had never been more contented. I fell sideways onto the furs and sprawled out. Tristan laid down beside in more dignified manner and propped his head on his hand to look at me.

"You have to take a bath before you kiss me again." I ordered quietly. As if to challenge me, he leaned down to kiss me. His lips met the hand that was guarding my mouth jealously. I shook my head and grinned wickedly under my hand. He collapsed on top of me and began to pry my hands away. We struggled like that for a few moments before I felt my arms start to tire. Recognizing defeat, I went still and let him have his kiss.

"I missed you." Tristan said suddenly. I rested a hand on his neck and looked at him. I didn't need to say I missed him too. It went unspoken.

"We should get married soon if we want the wedding before the baby comes." I said lazily. "Either that, or you can sleep in your own bed until you want to get married."

I refused to take any more herbs. It would be tempting fate.

"Can they marry us here?" He asked laying his head on my collarbone. I ran my fingers through his hair against the way it grew. I felt all his muscles relax slowly as he melted into me. I smiled and drummed my fingers against his face. I felt around until I found the scar that ran from his ear to the back of his head from the battle at Badon.

"What do you want to name the first child?" He asked looking at my stomach.

"I thought you wanted to name your son after your brother." Came my reply. "And you make it sound like we're having more than one."

He gave me a look of unadulterated male pride, and I pulled a braid. He remained perfectly still until I let go and then his look became contemplative.

"The name belonged to Alessand." He said simply and I understood. There was no need to name our son after him. Tristan had his memory of his brother and that was enough.

"Well I haven't thought about it." I said thoughtfully. "We could always follow Bors' example. One…two…"

"Three…Four…Five…" He continued. I gave him a dangerous look.

"After the first two, I'm done. Then you can start having them." I said daring him to argue. His lip curled in distaste.

"When will you know?" He asked after a moment.

"A few weeks. Could be months though." I said. Another smug look crossed his face.

"Shouldn't last night have been enough?" He asked. I was not an expert on childbearing obviously. I shrugged.

"When will we leave?." I asked minutes later. I wanted to drag the day on for as long as possible.

"Tomorrow." He said, and I suddenly thought of Yseult. It still hurt to think of him with her. His arms wrapped around her…Her auburn hair fluttering around his shoulders as she kiss him… It was enough to make me feel ill. Tristan must have seen something on my face for he pulled me a little closer. I wanted to ask Tristan what he had said to Yseult and how she had acted, but I knew I shouldn't. I didn't want to dwell on any of it. Whatever had been between the two of them was gone. I kissed him brutally for a few moments. He raised his eyebrows at my forcefulness, but I didn't explain. He was mine, and I had no reason to complain.

"What has happened since the battle?" I asked suddenly. If there was a war, I wanted to be in it.

"Arthur is trying to decide friend from foe before he attacks." Tristan said in his richly accented voice. There was no need to mention Caradoc and Turquine by name.

"When will there be fighting?" I asked languidly, glancing at my sword. I saw the corners of his lips twitch. Once again I was reminded why he was the man for me.

"Soon." His voice murmured in my ear. I turned my head to give him access to my mouth, something he immediately showed his appreciation for.

* * *

"Do you want me to return you to your mother?" I asked somberly as I kneeled next to Mordred. Tristan was already on his horse ready to leave. Scosin stood by my side as he pawed the ground impatiently. Mordred let his hand fall from my tunic and shook his head. 

"Last offer." I said touching his cheek.

"She'll come for me soon." He said and I smiled lightly. I hoped my child had as much faith in me as Mordred had in Modron.

"You haven't even seen your new home?" I asked. Mordred shook his head.

"Uriens said he will take me hunting when I return. I will not enjoy it as much as when you took me though." He said twirling his fingers through his dark hair. I pulled him to me and hugged him one last time. It was good that Uriens liked Mordred. He would make a good father. I stood up and nodded good bye to the small crowd that had come to see us off. I liked Aballava. I hoped to return before many years had passed. Nimue raised a hand in goodbye as I mounted Scosin. I gave them one last look before turning my horse in the opposite direction. It was time to head south towards Caerleon.

It took us a fortnight to get to Caerleon. I was eager to see everyone, but I couldn't help wish that it had taken a bit longer to get there. It had just been Tristan and I the whole trip. We avoided settlements and villages, stopping only at farmsteads to barter for food. Life had seemed simple for the first time in years.

* * *

"Isolde!" Galahad cried as he trotted out to greet us. My handsome friend had a huge smile on his face. Jols smiled at me in welcome as he took Scosin. I allowed Galahad to pull me into a fierce hug. Lancelot looked at Tristan and gave him a wicked look as Galahad kissed me. Tristan's face remained as stoic as ever but I suspected a scathing comment would come later. Galehault appeared at Lancelot's side and hailed me politely. I was on the receiving end of many embraces for a few minutes. March gave me a chaste hug and quickly stepped back while giving the older scout a wary look. Arthur held me close for a few moments I took the time to notice how tired he seemed. I doubted very much that it was all from recently becoming a father. Speaking of which… 

"Where's Guinevere? How's the baby?" I asked my king. He smiled tiredly.

"She's lying down in our room with the baby." He said. "It was a hard birth."

I nodded to Tristan and hefted my bag over my arm. I made my way to Guinevere's rooms and opened the door quietly.

"Guinevere." I said pleasantly. She looked much healthier with rosy cheeks and a few added pounds. She held out a hand, and I took it.

"We all thought you were going to die." Guinevere said plainly.

"I'm not that easy to get rid of." I yawned. I looked around suddenly for the infant.

"Go get him." Guinevere said nodded in the direction of a plain wooden cradle. I walked over and picked the two month old infant up. A boy…Arthur had another son now. I suddenly found myself looking at the potential rival for Mordred. His eyes were still the dark blue of infancy and his hair was a feathery brown fluff. He was staring at me with interest as his shiny wet lips smacked together.

"What did you name him?" I asked touching one of his cherry red cheeks. At the question, Guinevere's face darkened.

"_Arthur _named him Constantine." She said as if it were an abomination. Of course. Arthur.

"Didn't you have any say?" I asked lazily. She shrugged.

"Next one." She said I heard her voice crack. I looked up at her sharply. Something was wrong. I watched her as she clenched her jaw and gathered her strength. "It was a hard birth. And with the months spent in Marius's dungeon and then with the Saxons…The midwives say I won't give birth to another child."

I digested this knowledge for a moment. Poor Guinevere. I walked back over and stood near her.

"And what does Merlin say?" I asked quietly. She shook her head.

"My father…He is sorry for my loss, but he says Arthur needs no other heirs." She said and I could tell she was confused by this. If a king had only one child, and that child died, the kingdom had no heir. It was then that I began to suspect that Merlin knew of Mordred's parentage. I suddenly felt my head cloud and my stomach turn. I shoved the baby in his mother's arms and dove for a clay chamber pot. I spent several agonizing moments emptying my stomach of that morning's breakfast. I sat back and wiped at my mouth. Guinevere laid the baby in his crib and quickly fetched me a damp cloth. She held it to my forehead while giving me a worried look.

"Happened yesterday too…" I said calmly. I made a face at the vile taste that now swam in my mouth. The corner of the young woman's mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Would I be correct in saying that this is all the fault of Arthur's scout?" She asked slyly. I stretched out on the floor and looked up at Guinevere with a small smile of my own.

"Perhaps…" I drawled. Her smile widened. "I don't want to say anything until I'm sure though."

She nodded understandingly but the smile didn't leave her face.

"How is Ragnelle?" I asked standing back up. Constantine was already asleep in his crib. I waited patiently as Guinevere began to dress.

"Good. The baby was due a week or so ago, but her pains have not started yet." The youthful queen said as she finished sliding her shoes on. She picked up her son and we began to walk around.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she started having pains right now." Guinevere said as the spring sun caressed us. We were ambling along in the small garden that was in the back of the domus.

"Wonderful." I said rubbing my stomach. Birthing pains…It didn't sound enjoyable, but it couldn't be _that_ bad. After all, women had been doing it for centuries.

A few more minutes passed in companionable silence.

"Guinevere, is Yseult still here?" I asked keeping my face guarded. I had not seen the girl so far.

"Yes." She answered and shifted Constantine in her arms. "I suppose she hurried back to her rooms when she heard of your arrival."

I was silent for a few moments.

"I had not even asked Tristan if he had settled things with her." I said glancing up at the white sky. The sun was hidden behind a few ripe looking clouds and we were suddenly in shadow. Guinevere smiled wryly as she bumped elbows with me.

"Obviously, you were busy with other pastimes besides talking." She said, and I didn't even have the decency to blush.

* * *

The afternoon passed slowly and suddenly it was time for dinner. Though it wasn't a feast, Arthur had welcomed anyone who wanted to join. I shook out a few wrinkles from my burgundy dress. I loved the dress…It was such a deep, warm color that reminded me of honey and wine all at the same time. It comforted me to think of Galina's creamy hands making it. I undid my normal braids and bound thick strands haphazardly with the flat copper rings. My gold neck plate completed the outfit. I pulled aside the thick curtain and threw open the wooden shutter. Music from the city wafted in through the window, and I smiled in the cool night air. I danced across the flagstone floor and swayed gaily. It made me feel young. I was young… Sometimes I forgot _how _young I was. The door opened and Tristan stepped in. My lover was attired in a nicer tunic that he normally wore. It was plain, dark blue tunic that suited him just fine in my opinion. He leaned against the wall and watched me dance for a moment. I stopped after a moment and tried to stand in a dignified manner. I couldn't get rid of the smile that covered my face though. Tristan's face was unreadable as he watched me, and I was reminded of the way he had unsettled me when I first met him. I walked over to him and stood close as he pressed his mouth against the mark on my neck. I had to stand on my tiptoes to put my mouth near his hair. 

"I'm with child." I whispered through his chaotic hair. I felt him smile against my neck. I stepped away from him, opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Tristan's footsteps quickened as he caught up with me. We walked side by side to the room that housed the round table. I took a seat next to Galahad, and he kissed my cheek.

"Get your own woman." Tristan said tipping back his drink. Oooh. A game of wits.

"I already have." Galahad said grabbing my chair and scooting me closer to himself.

"Mine." Tristan said as if in reminder.

"The truth is, Isolde and I have been planning on running away together." Gawain said looking over at us.

"You're married!" Galahad protested.

"Actually, _I_ love Isolde." Dagonet said and they all promptly stopped talking. Dagonet smirked lightly and continued on with his conversation with Bors. Lancelot and I began laughing, and soon the others joined it. How I had missed us all being together…I looked up to see Yseult next to Ealasaid on the other side of the table. She seemed to have made an extra effort to look nice. Indeed, she was wearing a vivid green gown and a thin gold torque around her neck. Her eyes kept shooting towards Tristan as if praying for a smile or even a glance from him. I was more than confident that he would not be tempted to rekindle a romance with her, and I felt sympathy for her. A few months ago we had sat in this room and things were very different. She was the one sitting by Tristan, and I was the lonely one on the other side of the room.

Arthur looked ready to say something to everyone when a servant girl burst into the room and headed straight for Gawain. She whispered something in his hear, and he stood up quickly, nearly knocking his chair over. He steadied himself for a moment while trying to regain his dignity. He took a large swig of ale and looked at us.

"Baby." He said at a loss for words. And with that he ran out of the room. There were cheers all around the room. Easy for them…They weren't the ones giving birth. I felt sorry for Ragnelle suddenly. She had come to this land knowing only Gawain. And now she was giving birth without a mother or sister there to help her along. I looked to Guinevere and we both stood up. The rest of the knights followed us as we made our way to Gawain and Ragnelle's chamber. The midwife was already there ordering around a middle aged woman and a girl. The servants were hurrying to do as she said. Ragnelle's bronze hair was clinging to her head in sweaty ropes. Guinevere and I quickly helped her out of her dress and set her on her bed with only a thin shift on. The servant girl was throwing another log into the fire. The room was soon stifling.

* * *

Another afflicted shriek filled the air. 

"Calm down girl." The midwife ordered Ragnelle who was gritting her teeth in agony. I suddenly felt nauseous. I looked at my own stomach and suddenly felt betrayed. _Joys of motherhood_? I lifted a cup to Ragnelle's lips. She balked at the strength of the alcohol and the bitterness of the herbs in it. Guinevere looked at me and nearly laughed.

"Go Isolde. Tell Gawain it might be a while." The queen said and I obeyed with relish. I nearly ran out of the door and into the hall where the exiled men had pulled a bench into. Gawain was sitting on the bench with his back pressed firmly into the wall. Galahad was pacing back and forth as if it were his own wife giving birth. I would have laughed if I were not so distressed. A distinctly female roar was issued from behind the closed door and Gawain lifted the flagon of ale to his lips and drank deeply. He stared at the wall like a man possessed.

"How is she?" Arthur asked.

"She's a small woman. It could be hours." I said and I refrained from looking at them all with disgust. Worried men. Ha! Oh yes…They were worried alright. But _they_ didn't have to push a whole baby through-

"I can't take it anymore!" Galahad cried in a rather high pitched voice as he pulled at the neck of his tunic. "I never want a wife if it means this!"

Dagonet scrubbed at his face while Lancelot gave Galahad a warning look. It was best not to upset Gawain…The man looked ready to drink himself to death. Bors shrugged however.

"Vanora never had any trouble." He said as if he didn't understand what was taking so long. "'Course she's got rather nice wide hips-"

"Enough!" I cried and sat next to Gawain. I grabbed the flagon from his hand and treated my throat to a nice burning torrent of calmness. Arthur gave me a worried look. Tristan put a hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off. His damn child might be giving me this much trouble in a few months. Why? Why did I want a child? Why had I gone and gotten pregnant? Tristan, who normally would not ever presume to keep me from drinking, pulled the flagon from my hands. No…It was the ambrosia of the gods! I needed it if I was to spend any more time listening to Ragnelle scream and curse.

"Not good." He said rubbing my stomach. I gave him my blackest look and he simple raised an eyebrow at me. I pulled him down next to me.

"Am I going to be like that?" I asked desperately even though I knew there was no way he could know the answer. Tristan looked a little nervous.

"No." He said simply. Stupid, braided scout. What did he know?

* * *

Another hour passed. And then another. Finally Guinevere appeared at the door. 

"It's a boy." She said happily. Gawain jumped up from his stupor and ran into the room. We waited around for a few minutes until we all got to have a good look at the wrinkly, red thing. All that noise and pain for that? Of course, for reasons of personal safety, I refrained from saying anything out loud. Ragnelle was looking at the boy child as he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and I doubted she would have taken my comments with much kindness. We left the new mother and father to themselves after that. Our rooms being in the same hall, I found it very odd when Tristan picked me and carried me into my room. He stood me back up and began trying to remove my gold neck plate.

"Soon you'll be too fat for me to carry you." He explained with a shrug. I wrinkled my nose at him.

"Your fault." I said fumbling around with his tunic. This time I wrapped my legs around him when he picked me up. Tristan laid us down on the bed and continued to work on getting my soft leather slippers off while I pulled his tunic over his head.

"Yeh." He said absentmindedly and ended our talking.

* * *

I had forgotten to pull the curtain shut. Through the tiny crack, the Romans were good architects, gods bless them, between the shutter and the stone wall I could see a dim rosy glow. Sunrise. I slid out of bed, rather pointless. I looked back and saw without much surprise that I had woken up Tristan. In the dim light I saw his eyes travel up and down my form. The strange light was making his face look soft and inviting. Shadows were enhanced and his face looked extremely handsome. I guessed the light was doing to same to my own body by the way he was looking at me. Face still expressionless, I began to dress silently. I wanted some time to myself before the entire city was awake. I avoided the kitchens with much sadness. I had resolved that for the next few weeks, I should eat sparingly in the mornings. I didn't enjoy seeing my breakfast a second time. Especially when I had eaten a large morning meal. I made my way to the courtyard and sat down on a stone bench. Being surrounded by walls, I could not see the horizon line, but the sky was beautiful nonetheless. It had brightened to an orangey pink when Lancelot came to sit next to me. 

"I have seen Modron before." Lancelot said after a while. I kept perfectly still, resigned to the fact that Lancelot could have the knowledge that threatened Arthur's reign. I waited for him to continue. There would be no point in lying if I was asked the question. And I did not want to lie to my friend about an important matter.

"We were at Hadrian's wall. Not near the fort though…We fought a battle with the woads. Balin was injured."

I closed my eyes for a moment. _Balin._ It had been years since I had seen his face but I could still picture him perfectly in my mind.

"We stayed at a village to let a healer help him. I knew he wouldn't survive." His voice became a little harder. "One night, I saw a young woman, barely more than a girl leave Arthur's room. She was a woad and I knew it. I rushed in Arthur's room to find him asleep with his clothes thrown on the floor. I did not know why Arthur had lain with a woad. I thought any woad would have killed him right then. It was strange…Unusual for Arthur. The ale had drove it from my mind the next night however, and I did not think about it again for over five years. Then I saw Modron and her son. A son just the right age to be the product of that night."

Lancelot looked to me with a carefully guarded face.

"Tell me it's not true Isolde. Tell me that boy is not the son of Arthur and a woad queen."

"I cannot tell you that and you know it." I said calmly. Lancelot nodded while gritting his teeth.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked and I didn't bother looking at him. The sky was obscenely beautiful compared to our talking.

"You didn't need me to." I said plainly.

"Will she tell all of Britain that Arthur's first born son is not the child sleeping in Guinevere's room right now? What will happen when everyone discovers that Arthur has another son? One who was raised as a woad? I have no doubt that Uriens will teach Mordred everything he knows about ruling and warfare." This time the handsome knight's voice was slightly accusing.

"Of course he will. Mordred stands to inherit Modron's title. And if she bears no other children, Mordred will inherit Uriens' lands as well." I said logically. I realized that Lancelot might be loyal to Constantine for Guinevere's sake alone.

"Arthur has a son in his chambers now. A son by his wife. _Guinevere's_ son." He said fiercely. I turned to face him.

"Is this what this is about Lancelot? Guinevere?" I asked sharply. He looked away pointedly. "Tell me friend, have you acted on your feelings for Arthur's wife?"

I purposely used the word wife. I knew it would hurt him, but the sooner the truth sank in, the better.

"No." He said and clenched his fist. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you love her." I said quietly. "And I'm sorry."

"Easy for you to say how sorry you are." He said looking away. "You can hold Tristan whenever you wish. You can kiss him and assure him that you love him. And Tristan does not have to look in the other direction while you carry another man's child. Perhaps it is different for women, but a man needs to know that the woman he loves is his. Tristan knows you are his. And you will never have to fear him taking another woman. All you have to do is watch the way he looks at you."

It occurred to me that Lancelot was jealous of Tristan and I. He took a deep breath and this time his voice was quieter.

"It's hard." Was all he said. He looked ready to go. "And I do not hate Modron or Mordred. I…"

He shook his head and squeezed my shoulder before leaving me there. I stood up after a few more minutes. I began making my way to my room. I stopped before turning around a corner as I heard Tristan's and Yseult's voices. I peeked around the corner to see them. Tristan was standing with a small loaf of bread and a piece of meat. Coming to force feed me no doubt. Yseult stood in front of him. Her back was straight and proud, but her shoulders looked defeated. Too proud to beg, but not ready to give up.

"Tristan." She said weakly. His face was totally blank as he looked at her.

"No." He said firmly. He backed away from her outstretched hand and moved around her. She stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm.

"You don't love me?" She asked with a touch of finality to her voice.

"No." He repeated. She dropped her hand and stood there. Tristan began to walked past her and in my direction. I was thankful for my years of tracking and scouting as I quietly jogged back the courtyard. I sat on a bench and waited for him to catch up. He sat next to me and put a large chunk of bread in my hand. I stared at it distastefully. If I threw up, I was going to make sure he received most of it. Seeing that I had no plans of eating the bread, he tore off a piece and gently put it in my mouth. I chewed resignedly and leaned against his shoulder. Tristan loved me. Something everyone else seemed to know and something he had proved several times. I was going to marry him and have his child before the year was out. That part of my life had turned out quite nicely. Sounds filled my ears as the city began waking and I couldn't help but feel that the past few years of my life were only the beginning of something.

* * *

The End.

* * *

Gasp! Don't worry, don't worry, I'll be throwing in a healthy dose of Tristan and Isolde into the next story. A few chapters will probably even be from Isolde's point of view. Review please. I really hoped you all liked it. It was sort of anticlimactic because I wanted to end things on a peaceful note. The next story is going to have a lot of heartbreak and such. Plus a lot of happy! You'll see! And don't worry, all those crazy loose ends will be tied up. 


End file.
